


The Fantastic Brotherhood of Travelling Circus Performers

by rhymeswithmonth



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alex is a clown, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angel is forever a stripper, Charles Is a Darling, Charles as a Stuntrider, Emma is a horse sort of, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Erik's Manpain, Historically accurate homophobia, Historically accurate racism, M/M, Pining, Shaw Being a Manipulative Bastard, Shaw is the worst ringmaster ever, Unrequited Love, and Hank is his dog, based on a book, sort of non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymeswithmonth/pseuds/rhymeswithmonth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik very nearly finished University. But his parents' untimely deaths derail all of his plans for the future, and in a desperate bid to escape the ruins of his old life he jumps a train and unintentionally runs away with the circus. As he becomes more and more involved with the troupe's going-ons, Erik unearths the darker side of the world of traveling performers.</p><p>Based on the Novel and Movie Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is heavily based on the brilliant novel Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen, as well as the movie adaption. I highly recommend both, they are very very good. 
> 
> I believe there are at least a couple other XMFC circus aus floating around out there so I hope I don't step on any toes with this. I actually wrote it before reading any of them so I don't think I would have copied anything...

Erik very nearly finished University.

He came so close, so very close to actually doing it, to defying the odds and breaking free of his circumstance. It had been his goal for over a decade to achieve what nobody had expected him, a lowly only son of poor German immigrants to, graduate from an Ivy League school.

Engineering was his passion, and Erik had thrived in Cornell. He was driven and focused and all of his professors were fond of him. His cool head and good looks endured him to faculty and peers alike, and although he single-mindedly spent all of his time buried in study, he had a small group of classmates who he considered his friends.

Now that finals were drawing to a close, the student body was buzzing with anticipation. Brutal hours of prep were finally paying off and soon another batch of young academics would be loosed into the world to find their places in respectable society. It was the day of Erik's last exam, and he was finally allowing himself to feel the infectious relief that his fellows were exuding. In just three hours he'd be done, he'd be a University graduate.

They were seated along the benches, test papers in front of them. Erik reached to straighten the booklet, running a finger briefly over the seal in the top left corner. The clock hit one o'clock sharp and the exam began. Across the isle Erik caught Magda's eye and the girl smiled encouragingly. Erik felt himself flush and snapped his eyes back to the paper his heart rabbiting in his chest. Magda was simply a classmate, and Erik hadn't allowed himself to be distracted by thoughts of anything more, but now that classes were over…perhaps thing would be different.

Ten minutes into the test period the door at the back of the room opened behind them and heads turned curiously to watch the proctor exchange hushed words with the department head. Erik drowned them out, fixated on the exam until a hand landed, impossibly heavy on his shoulder.

An hour later found him in the morgue. The white sheets billowed like twin plumes as the battered faces of his parents were uncovered, and Erik felt his dreams catch fire and burn away until nothing was left but ash.

xxx

When Jakob and Edie Lehnsherr immigrated to the United States with their infant son, they'd known exactly what lay in wait. They had no illusions of streets paved with money or fields rich in opportunities. In Germany they'd been poor, living off Jakob's pitiful military pension, and in America they didn't even have that the rely on. A lucky break had found Jakob in the position to procure a raggedy group of farm animals from a friend of a friend who'd moved from the homeland years earlier and thus the Lehnsherr farm was born. In the twenty years since the farm had grown modestly. At last count they had a herd of fifteen goats, a couple pigs, eight laying hens overseen by one rooster, one lazy hound and two ancient draft horses with which they managed to coax a small annual harvest from the rocky plot of land.

Erik watched as they were all taken away.

He had no more energy left in him to fight them, but he felt a dark satisfaction when the bloke wrestling old Teufel the cock into a cage let out a pained yelp at the bite of the rooster's notorious claws.

It turned out that Jakob, military man through-and-through had been allowing his generous spirit to interfere with his common sense for a long time. Neither of his parents had ever had much of a head for money, despite all stereotypes pointing to the contrary, and it seemed that they'd lent both their scant funds and services out to the community for almost nothing in return until the family was utterly broke. Erik's entrance fee, even with all of the loans he'd taken out and the scholarship he's managed to earn had been the plunge into the deep end. He'd had no idea that they were so far in debt.

The land as well as the animals and rusty farm equipment that were now being loaded into an armada of trucks didn't cover the expenses, but as it was all that was left under the Lehnsherr name, it would have to do. Erik's inheritance had been wrenched out of reach before he'd even known that his parents were dead.

He walked slowly between the men ransacking the farm, no longer _his_ farm, to where the horses were tethered together behind a trailer, waiting patiently to be loaded. He placed a hand on one swayed back and leaned against the larger of the pair. The horses turned their runny old eyes to regard him and he suddenly felt the illogical urge to apologize to the animals. He rubbed his hand along the beast's flank, "I don't suppose you even care one bit do you?" He murmured scratching under her mane, "All you need is a warm stable and a bucket of grain and you're just peachy. I doesn't matter to you who it is that feeds you as long as you're fed, isn't that right?"

The old girl knickerd as a man Erik recognized as a long-time neighbour comes over to take her bridle. From across the horse's back the man offered a sad smile. "I'm sorry m'boy," He said gently, "It's a right shame this business. Your parents were good folk and who never meant no harm," _As if Erik didn't know that_ "If you need a place to stay until you get your feet back under you me and the missus would be glad to have you."

It was an offer from the heavens and Erik would be a fool not to take it. It's what he needed to do, find temporary lodgings, get a job, maybe two or three to pay off the rest of his parents' debts. His shining dreams of an illustrious career were gone, left behind with the unfinished exam booklet he'd abandoned the day before.

But with the voice of reason still screaming itself hoarse over the injustice of it all in a fractured corner of his mind, Erik politely declined the offer.

When he was left standing on the edge of the road in the muddy tire tracks left by the trucks with an empty farm at his back and an eviction notice in his had Erik asked himself why he'd declined. Why the hell hadn't he gone to dinner at the neighbour's house, suffered the inevitable pity at the hands of the wife and staring eyes of the young children. He could be there now, being fed and coddled and stepped around like some fragile thing. He came up with no answer.

They'd let him keep the dog. He looked down at the animal, characteristically sprawled at his feet. Yesterday morning the dog had hopped into the bed of Jakob's old pickup truck, the same vehicle that had careened into the river hours later. The animal had emerged downriver, bedraggled but without a scratch on him. Edie and Jakob hadn't.

Edie had kissed him an extra time as they'd departed, squeezing him tightly for luck. Jakob had grasped his hand and told him how proud they were, tears shining in his eyes. All Erik had been was impatient to get back to cramming.

xxx

When he wanted to do was get away. His home was no longer his home; the tiny house was empty and quiet. He was no longer welcome at Cornell. He wondered if Magda and the others would give his the time of day now that he no longer had a penny to his name or a future to speak of. They'd likely apologize to him, for his loss, and then avert their eyes and pretend he'd never existed - another soul swallowed by the black hole that was the depression.

He wanted to leave Ithaca and all of its limitations. Maybe even leave the states, go to Israel to discover hiss inner spirituality perhaps. He had his bags packed before his rationality could chime in that he had nowhere near enough money for a train ticket, not even thinking about the costs of an entire pilgrimage. Everything he had left to his name was stuffed into his moth-eaten duffel. He didn't bother locking the door to the farmhouse; everything of monetary value had been stripped and anything of sentimental value hung from his hand as he made his way down the dirt road.

The clenching in his heart at leaving behind the only home he can remember wasn't enough to make him turn back. However, the jangling of dog tags was. Erik turned to level fat old Rudi with his formidable glare. **"Sitzen!"** he snapped and the dog fell back on its brown and white haunches obediently, **"Und bleiben."**

All of the animals had been trained to heed both English and German commands and the dog stayed, tongue lolling, in the middle of the road until Erik was well on his way along and then it lumbered to its feet to trot over and lie down under the apple tree in the front yard. It was where Rudi always waited when the family was out, biding his time napping until someone returned to feed him. _"Nobody's coming back you dumb animal!"_ Erik thought bitterly, _"You were with them when they died! You must realize that everything is different now!"_

Some neighbour would come around the house tomorrow, Erik was certain, to check up on him. They'd see the bare rooms and understand that he'd left. Rudi would be okay, there was always use for a farm dog around and he'd find a good home quickly. There weren't however, quite as many places for a broke university dropout like Erik to go. He snorted; the master more of a stray than the abandoned mutt.

He actually did end up walking to the train station. He stared for a long while at the ticket board with all of its unreachable prices before stepping off the platform and onto the gravel maintenance path that ran parallel to the tracks. The sun set on Erik's second day as an orphan and he was now officially homeless as well as parentless. The train tracks were striped with long shadows from the impending night but he kept walking. He knew that he was a fool to be doing this, to be walking the line north into Cayuga County with nothing but the clothes on his back and the trinkets in his bag. And family photos, his parent's wedding rings and immigration papers could hardly feed him or keep him warm in the forest once the sun was down.

Hours after sun-down a low rumbling in the metal rails beside him signaled that a train approached. He squinted back down the line against the glare of the engine's headlight as it turned a corner and came into sight. They were still pretty close to the Ithaca station so it wasn't moving at top speed yet, but the air around Erik was still stirred into a miniature windstorm at its passing.

Erik stilled in the rush of putrid air, eyes fixed on the blur of train cars. The steady clunking, puffing, chugging drowned out even the pounding of his heart as he took an unsteady step, and then another, walking beside the train, and then breaking into a run. He flew along the gravel path, kicking up pebbles and stumbling over branches and rocks. Some how he managed to stay on his feet. The wind tore his clothes into disarray and destroyed his carefully slicked hair. At full sprint Erik could just barely reach out, just managed to hook his hand around an open door of one of the cars. With a push from his long legs he was airborne, the duffel bag was ripped from his grasp and sent tumbling into the blackness behind him and out of sight. And then his knees hit the solid wood floor of the storage car and the rest of his body followed suit painfully.

The stench overwhelmed him as his face was jarred against filthy wood strewn with straw. It was an unmistakable mix of hay, rotting vegetation and dung that Erik immediatly associated with large animals. There was a heavy scent of alcohol as well which intensified when multiple sets of hands descended on him, tugging him roughly to his feet and around to face four strangers.

The man who held his left arm appeared to be the main source of the stench of booze, it hung off them thickly. "Well whadda we have 'ere?" He growled in Erik's ear, fowl breath fanning his face and thick stubble scraping his neck, "A little stowaway if my eyes don't deceive me!" Hands on his bicep tightened against Erik's weak struggles.

"Cut the crap Logan." The other pair of hands snapped, "We need to get him the fuck out of here."

"And how the fuck do you expect that to happen genius? We've got to be going seventy by now, this idiot would be nothing but a splat on the tracks."

"Well we need to do something or else that's what'll happen anyway, you know what Shaw'll do if he finds out we have a jumper, he'll chuck him and by then we'll probably have reached a hundred clicks."

Wait wait wait, Erik was NOT okay with this line of thought. He struggled a little more energetically in the two mens' grip and surprisingly they let go at once, and promptly gave Erik a boot on his arse that sent him tumbling forward. His breath wooshed out of him in a gasp that turned into a hoarse shout of fear at the end when he found himself hanging half out of the speeding car.

A weight landed across his shoulders and a hand fisted in his hair. "NO!" he managed to choke out before the second voice, who'd sounded disturbingly eager to through him from the train spoke from above him.

"Listen here asshole," the stranger hissed, "Keeping you aboard is risking our asses as well as yours if the owner finds out, and apperantly Logan is made of fucking rainbows and sunshine today," -This drew a cheerful "Fuck you Summers!" from further off in the car- "so you'd better be fucking grateful that we don't throw you out right now."

Erik was hauled roughly to his feet and tugged into the centre of the floor. He spun to look peer into the dimly lit car.

There was a flickering lamp set down on an unmarked crate and two men -or were they boys- crouched beside it. There were bottles of amber booze scattered around them in various levels of full and their eyes shone up at him curiously.

The two who'd manhandled him so thoroughly stood closer. The bulkier, very hairy one must have been Logan, as Erik had become closely acquainted with his spectacular sideburns just moments ago. The closest man was tall and thinner with mussed dark hair and a days growth of whiskers on his cheeks. His sharp gray eyes glared distastefully at him and his whole body was tensed as if he was prepared to spring back on Erik at any moment.

"Relax Summers," Logan grunted at the other man as he flopped down on the floor with the other two, "The boss isn't going to come pay us a visit tonight, we'll just send him packing at the nest stop." He took a deep swig out of one of the bottles.

"Fine!" Summers snapped irritably, striding across the car and wrenching open the door at the end, "But it's YOUR ass on the line Logan, if Shaw comes down on us, I'm shoving the blame on YOU." And he exited the car closing the door firmly behind him.

Erik turned back to the other three. "Well, sit on down then," Logan ordered gruffly, "And meet the boys." He waved his bottle at the lanky red-headed youth who couldn't have been old enough to drink the liquor in his hands, "This here is Sean Cassidy." He introduced, "He's a highflying trapezest with a lovely singing voice to boot. And this chap," he thumped the other heartily on the shoulder to a grunted protest, "Is Summers the Junior, baby brother to the prick who just left. He's a clown."

"I'm not a clown!" The younger Summers snarled, proving in Erik's mind that the two siblings were just as alike in temperament as they were in their heavyset gray eyes.

"Sorry, sorry," Logan amended, his voice pitching to a ridiculous farce of a posh British accent, "He's an _actor,_ my apologies. He also runs around with a painted face and ridiculous costume."

Flushing pink, Summers jumped to his feet and followed his brother's path to the door. "Scott was right." He snarled, "This is beyond idiotic. I'm not going to be dragged into your mess again Logan."

"Now, now pipsqueak." Logan hummed, grinning, "Not so fast. You sir, are going to be the new guy's temporary roomie."

"What?" The young man hissed, "Like hell I am!"

"Exactly, like hell you are. You're the only one with your own room. Beasty doesn't count Summers."

"No way! Shaw'll skin me alive! I am not taking this guy."

"Just tell him that I forced you too. I'd take him myself if it weren't for Vic, you know that he'll run scampering to Shaw right away the little bitch. Same with Gabe and Scott, Gabe's a little bitch who'll sell anyone out if it means staying on Shaw's good side and you know it, and you saw how Scott was, he wouldn't stop him. Sean is in with Tom who is right in with Shaw's gang. You're the only one man."

Obvious conflict twists across the young man's face before he snaps, "Fine! But if Shaw tries to throw me off I'm dragging you out with me! You," He points at Erik with a dark look, "Come with me. Quietly."

Erik followed unsteadily, glancing back over his shoulders to look at Logan and the darkness of the blurred world outside. The big man chugged his booze and chuckled darkly, "Buddy, Welcome to The Brotherhood of Traveling Performers."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a few period-accurate racial slurrs. Nothing extreme (I hope...not sure) like the N-word, but the word 'Negro' is used and the word 'Spig' referring to Darwin and Angel respectively, as back then that is what white working men would have called them. 'Spig' is a slang term for a Spanish-speaking person first used in the early 1900s.

The dog was blue.

It was some kind of gigantic wolfhound cross and was aptly called "Beast". Although, curled up on the ratty pallet on the floor the huge animal wasn't nearly as intimidating as it had been when it'd greeted Erik at the door with lips curled to reveal jagged canines half as long as a man's finger.

According to his new roommate, Beast was a hit with the children. Erik found that extremely hard to believe. Even hours after Erik had first arrived in the cramped, musty closet of a room, the dog raised its head with a warning rumble if he so much as moved.

Summers, whose first name was apparently Alexander, but who also informed Erik that he could keep right on calling him Summers, had left the room about an hour ago, departing with instructions to stay quiet, not to open the door to anyone, and to "stay the fuck off my bed and outta my shit."

Erik would have been disinclined to heed that last command, if it weren't for the dog. Comedically coloured though it may be, Erik had no desire to test the Beast's guard dog capabilities, and the thing was sprawled across the unmade cot, with his long muzzle resting on its master's bag of personal affects.

He'd spent the night wrapped in a thin gray blanket in the corner of the room farthest away from the dog as possible. Summers had snuggled up right beside the Beast and together man and monster had snored loudly throughout the night. Needless to say, Erik had had better sleeps.

All of a sudden, the door slammed open and Logan shoved his way in, a feral grin on his face. Erik's attention immediately went to Beast, interested to see if he'd maul the intruder or not. A twitch of the ears was all that he was rewarded though, and a lazy thump of his shaggy tail. Apparently the thing didn't mind Logan.

"Okay kid, move you're ass," Logan ordered, "We've stopped for the day and if you're going to tag along with us you'll have to at least do some work in return. We're putting you to use in the animal cars."

The animal cars, it turned out, were something akin to hell on earth. Erik was, of course, somewhat used to animal droppings from spending years mucking out stables on the farm, but nothing he'd ever seen back home could have prepared him for the mess that the circus animals had made of the train cars. The animals themselves, Logan replied to Erik's inquiry, had been taken outside to stretch their legs. Meanwhile, Erik got to make their cars ready for their return.

The young man from the other night, Sean Cassidy Erik recalled, was there to help. "They give the newbies the shit jobs," He explained, irrationably cheery considering that they were ankle-deep in dung at the moment, "I just got here same day you did, except I got on at the station. My cousin Tom works security for the owner and he got me the job when I graduated."

"Highschool?" Erik asked, for the boy looked far too young to be out of college.

"Yup," Sean admitted with a shrug of his narrow shoulders, "Ma and Pa don't have the money to send me off to school so Tom is doing us a huge favour. He's a bit of an ass though, probably just doin' it so that he'd have something to hold over Pa. Nope, not a nice guy at all so I'm trying to steer clear of him for the most part."

Erik managed to extract a bit more information from the younger man before the laborious work took his breath away and he was forced to focus all his energy at the task at hand. According to the boy, the circus did round of New York, occasionally venturing out of state. The owner's name was Sebastian Shaw, a ruthless boss but a charming man when he needed to be. Cassidy's cousin Tom was one of Shaw's "inner circle", a group of men trusted with the circus' security and who sounded to Erik like a bunch of mindless thugs.

All in all the message that Erik was getting was that this was not a place he wanted to be for much longer without permission.

At long last they'd done all they could for the reeking train cars, cleared away the worst of the dung and shoveled the filthy hay out. Logan came by to check their work and instructed Erik to go fetch fresh straw. "It'll be five cars down the train." He told Erik, "You shouldn't run into any trouble, the boss and his crew are bound to be holed up near the engine at this point, just don't linger too long alright?"

Erik played it cautious, first stripping out of the sweat soaked button-up shirt that he'd been wearing for over twenty-four hours, and then trotting off to find the hay. There was no saving the shirt, and the undershirt he wore underneath was only mildly better. He only had the clothes on his back, and soon he wouldn't even have those. It was a depressing thought.

He stuck close to the wooden sides of the train, keeping his head down and eyes peeled for a hostile face. But all was well, the men milling around were too engrossed in getting everything prepared to reboard the train and get back underway.

They were stopped right beside a cleared area of the forest which had been transformed in a matter of minutes into a temporary base for the circus, with tents hurriedly set up to shelter the crew and performers from the morning sun. Erik caught glimpses of some of the more senior members of the circus, distinguishable by the fact that they were sitting around doing nothing.

Drawing level with the compartment that Logan had indicated, Erik peered in before flinching back, alarmed; there was a person in the car. Logan's warnings flashing through his mind, Erik plastered himself against the wooden siding and prepared to head back and send Sean instead, but a muffled curse accompanied by a high-pitched whinny and a scuffle from inside the cart held him where he stood. He pressed close against the wall and peered cautiously around the corner

The boy inside, or rather the young man Erik corrected himself when he caught sight of the strong line of his jaw, appeared to be attempting to convince a magnificent white horse to present its hoof to him. His technique was very lacking, Erik decided with some amusement as the other man stooped and tugged at one long leg. The beast snorted and backed away a step, causing the disgruntled man to unbalance and teeter before steadying himself against the horse's shoulder.

"Oh for goodness sake!" the man exclaimed crossly, "I can't very well help you if you won't let me see what's wrong!" He leaned forward and attempted the move again, both hands wrapped around the animal's slender white appendage and yanking in such a frustrated way that made Erik think that this struggle has been going on for quite some time. Of course, the results are exactly the same except this time the man wasn't able to catch himself before his knees hit the floor.

The man chose to stay where he'd landed, slumped against the horse, which, oblivious to the misery it had inspired, dipped its head to pluck at the straw on the floor.

All the warnings driven into him by Logan and all of the horrified shudders from Sean at the mention of Erik being discovered by the Boss rang in Erik's ears. He had no idea who this man was, for all he knew he could be one of the goons Alex had snarled bitterly about the night before while reading Erik the riot act before turning over on his cot and proceeding to ignore him. Every second Erik dawdled in the doorway the man inside could notice him and raise the alarm that there was an unfamiliar man onboard.

But the hopeless droop of the man's shoulders as he absently strokes the horse's flawless flank made Erik doubt that he was. It really was a magnificent animal, tall and immaculately groomed until it very nearly glowed in the dim compartment. It was walleyed, which some people found unattractive but on this beautiful animal it was striking. The leg that the man was resting his face against tiredly was propped against the floor at an odd angle, and Erik could tell that it was resting most of its weight on the opposite hoof.

Against his better judgment, Erik stepped fully into the car.

"You're going about it wrong." he said by way of introduction, and the man on the floor jerked in surprise. He had a pale, boyish face that was currently tightened defensively. He stood quickly and shifted around so that the horse was between him and Erik and glared at him suspiciously. Erik raised his eyebrows at the move, but took the man's silence as a sign that he wasn't about to yell for others and stepped farther in.

Placing a hand against the horse's muscled shoulder, Erik stroked firmly down the leg and the animal obligingly lifted and placed it's hoof in his waiting hand.

"First thing a horse is trained to do is present its feet." Erik said without looking up, instead running his thumb along the neatly trimmed edge of the hoof. "You just run your hand along the leg, make sure that it can feel it, and it'll cooperate." he glanced up in the direction of the other man, but the great white body blocked his view.

So he stood and regarded the man over the animal's back. His new companion was still silent, eyes turned down to watch his own hand pet along the horse's spine.

He was very short, Erik noted, his shoulders barely reached level with the animal's. His dark hair curled loosely around his face. He was also remarkably clean, Erik mused, fair skin unstrained by dirt, glossy curls lit up with auburn highlights where a ray of light shone from a crack in the wall. Every other person Erik had encountered in the past two days had been covered in at least one layer of grime. Next to the glowing white horse he looked utterly out of place in the dingy train car.

His lips parted, finally, to reply but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a shrill whistle. The horse's ears pricked and it automatically plodded out of the car. The man, looking uncomfortable without the barrier it had provided, rushed to grab its halter, although it looked like the horse knew its own way well enough.

Erik watched their retreat feeling a little put out at the lack of response he'd received. Heaving a sigh, Erik scooped as much straw into the burlap sack Sean had provided him with and hauled it over his shoulder.

"Put 'em up." Is what Erik was greeted with when he returned to the compartment that seemed to be the regular gathering spot for Logan and his buddies. He turned to stare levelly at Logan, keeping his hands stubbornly at his sides.

The idiot was waving an empty bottle at him like a pistol "Don't be a tit Lensherr, hands, let's see 'em."

Erik raised a brow, refusing to stoop to the man's drunken whims (for gods sake it was still early afternoon) and took a seat on a sack of gain across the room.

Logan, however, wouldn't be dissuaded so easily. "Seriously Lensherr, let me see your hands." he growled, hauling himself up and making his unsteady way across the floor to grab Erik's wrist in his free hand much to Erik's chagrin.

"Well looky you at that!" Logan crowed in delight, "fresh as a whore's thigh!" he released Erik's hand in exchange for its twin. "Well whadda ya know, Mr Ivy League is no stranger to hard labour so it seems. Most men's palms would be broken open from blisters after a day like that and you've got notta one."

Erik couldn't help but feel a little pleased but he tried his best to shrug it off nonchalantly, "Spent my while life on a farm." he supplied, stretching out his legs which were actually a little sore, though he'd never admit it.

"Well well! Why didn't you say so before? We just assumed you'd be like any other of those cushy academics chasing romantic notions of running away to the circus."

Erik didn't reply, instead letting Logan reappraise him with one hand stroking his whiskers thoughtfully.

"You know what Lensherr? It seems you might be a bit more useful than I originally thought. And I like you. I think I'm going to introduce you to the boss."

"Woah holy shit!" Sean's curly red head popped out from behind a stack of creates, making Erik flinch in surprise; he'd thought that it was just Logan in the car. The gangly teenager clambered out from the corner to join them on the floor, "You really think that's a good idea Logan?"

"Eh, I don't see why not. He's in a good mood today, breaking in the new stock of booze with the boys as we speak. I think I can sweet-talk him into letting our boy Lensherr stick around a while. How's that sound farmer boy?"

"I saw somebody." Erik said.

The other two blinked at the irrelevance of the statement. "So...did that somebody seem inclined to tell Shaw about this seeing? 'Cause it would really be better for everyone if he didn't hear about you through the grapevine. Really, you announcing yourself would lead to less throwing off trains and such unsavory business." Sean tugged at his filthy hair anxiously.

"I don't know, he didn't say anything really just, stared at me a little and then ran away."

"Stared and ran away? That doesn't sound like one of the thug patrol at least. Describe him Lensherr."

"He had dark curly hair, pretty long. Pale, skinny little guy. Big blue eyes, oh and he had a horse with him."

"Charles." Sean and Logan said in unison, exchanging a mysterious look. "We're probably okay then, I don't think he'll rat us out."

"Che!" Logan spat skeptically, "Unless Shaw asks - 'babykins pookybum, did you see anything of interest today dearest? No? No tall dark strangers lurking around?' - then he'll squeal, you know Shaw likes to make him squeal."

"...Babykins...pookybum?" Erik asked flatly, not liking the way Logan had pitched his voice into a deep almost-purr.

"Sickening, I know."

"Charles is..." Sean furrowed his pale, almost invisible brows, searching for words, "He's Mr. Shaw's...boy...if you know what I mean."

Erik was afraid he did but his mouth ran ahead of his brain, "Boy?" he parroted stupidly.

Beside Sean Logan made a series of extremely crude hand gestures. "Don't look so scandalized Lensherr, this is the circus, if you're going to make it here you have to get used to that kind of thing. That and whores, with the ratio of dames to dicks on this goddamned train leaning depressingly to our end."

Erik felt like his face was in fire, and suddenly he regarded his companions' relaxed slouches, so close that their shoulders were touching, the way they passed one bottle of beer between them... "Are you...does that mean..."

"No, Lensherr. Urgh god no this guy?" Logan's face twisted comically and Sean, a little slower on the uptake, looked at him quizzically until realization dawned and he just looked sick. "Naw I prefer to wait for the whores. And even if I didn't, I'm no child lover."

Sean seemed to be torn between objecting that he wasn't a child and sinking through the floor. He settled for chugging the rest of the bottles contents in one go.

"And Cassidy likes the girlies too dontch Cassidy? Doesn't mean he gets any, but try try again, am I right? Always thought there was something with Summers and Munoz though."

"Armando and Alex? No way!" Sean yelped, chocking a little on the dredges of his drink. "I mean, sure Al is a but of a bitch sometimes, but he's no queer! And Armando was a straight laced guy, for a negro."

"They were mighty close is all I'm saying, and you remember how bad baby Summers got after... after he was gone. Armando Munoz," Logan explained to Erik, "Was Summers' previous roommate and partner. They did the show together. They had to work real hard since Munoz was a black man and normally they aren't allowed in the ring. But they made it eventually. It's why Alex such an asshole to you, he doesn't want to let himself attached again."

"What happened?" Erik didn't really want to know, but at the same time he really did."

"Same as'll happen to you if we don't hurry along to talk to Shaw!" underneath them the train lurched into motion, "Thrown overboard after a row with Shaw. The boss was in one of his moods and was yelling at one of the dancers."

"Angel." Sean supplied quietly, although the name meant nothing to Erik.

"Yeah Angel. She and Munoz were pretty close, him being a negro and her a spig, they stuck together. Shaw got a little physical as he will, and Munoz took objection. They dragged him from his bed and had him off before anybody could do anything. Didn't even slow the train."

"It broke Alex." Sean said sadly.

"It's what happens." Logan snarled, "It's what'll happen to you," he jabbed Erik in the chest, "If you don't make a good impression on Shaw. Or if Xavier spills the beans before we get there. So let's get a move on."

The trip to the boss' personal compartment was intermittent hopping from car to car across pitch-black blurrs of track and squeezing through ones crowded with people, supplies and animals. Erik slowed at the big cats cages, having only seen them from a distance before and being admittedly a bit fascinated. Finally they were close to the front of the train standing outside a closed brass door.

" If you would, don't mention that Cassidy and the others new you were here." Logan says gruffly, " If he asks say it was me alone, I can handle myself. Don't want the kids in trouble though."

Erik nodded.

"And don't forget to lay it on thick, flatter him, tell him how much you admire the circus and think it's incredible. Talk about working on the farm and your biology credits and shit. Graduating from an ivy league won't hurt either."

"I didn't technically graduate-"

"Well don't admit that! You attended right? Good enough." He looked Erik over, straightened his collar roughly, "Well go on." He ordered, "get it over with."

Erik knocked firmly on the door.

They were admitted by a man that looked like remarkably like a thirty year old Sean Cassidy but with dark brown hair. He looked at Erik puzzledly and then at Logan questioningly before stepping aside and letting them into the small compartment.

The room was cramped and opulent in a way that was old and fading. A round table stood at the centre, playing cards scattered in chaotic piles and brandy glasses in various stages of drink. A haze of cigar smoke dulled the edges making everything soft in the gold light of the ornate lamp.

The men seated at the table fit Logan and Sean's descriptions of the brutes employed by Shaw to keep the circus in line. There was one man who was possibly the most enormous person Erik had laid eyes on. A hairy blond lounged in his chair picking at his teeth leered at Logan as if he wanted nothing more than to tear him to pieces and wash him down with his brandy. Erik noticed a nervous looking brunet who had the exact same jawline as Scott Summers and blue eyes that matched Alex's.

The only person in the room who was smaller than Erik had his back to them, and was the one to break the tense silence, "Logan, you've finally decided to join us -Victor do take your fingers out of your mouth- And you've brought a friend how lovely."

Logan waved Erik forward encouragingly, "Yes sir, someone I'd like you to meet."

"Erik Lensherr." Erik supplied calmly, though his whole body was ridged and his insides seemed to be doing a circus performance of their own. "An honour to be here sir, with your amazing troupe."

"It is, isn't it," The man turned at last and Erik found himself looking into a somewhat pinged face. "Amazing. Fantastic, stupendous. The Fabulous Brotherhood, best traveling show in the State of New York. We're a very high-end operation Mr...Lensherr you said?"

"Yes sir" It would probably be unwise to correct his brutal pronunciation.

"So then, Mr Lensherr, I think you'll agree that its entirely reasonable for me to be displeased when I find strange men stowed away on my train. I think that's reasonable yes? Boys? Am I wrong?" Affirmative hums from every direction and Erik's palms were sweating something fierce.

"Yes, I'm a reasonable man. I expect my employees to work for their keep Mr Lensherr, and here you are along for the ride as a stowaway. As you can imagine, that doesn't sit very well with me. Mr Lensherr, does that sound reasonable?"

"Sir, I fully intend to work just as hard as every employee."

"Do you!" Shaw's smirking mouth formed a neat little O, he looked terrifyingly delighted. "And what if, Mr Lensherr, I do not need another worker, eh? What'll you do then?"

"I'm strong." Erik pushed, disgusted by the man's flippant attitude and determined to win this battle, "I've worked hard my whole life. I'll be a good hand to have around."

"Yes I'm sure, and so are a thousand other men. You know what Mr Lensherr? You've caught me on a good night. I've good brandy in my stomach, money in my wallet and a warm bed waiting for me. You may stay the night and be off when we stop in Cayuga Heights."

"I went to Cornell-"

"For what?"

"E-engineering-"

"Not much use to me is that? Veterinary training, something to do with public relations or business, finances maybe, but not engineering, not when we live on the open road, in tents and train."

Erik reached wildly for a compelling argument. For some inexplicable reason he needed this, needed to win this fight and stay in to work in the circus. "I know animals! I lived in a farm my whole life-!"

"And you've been trying my patience for the past five minutes of it. Boy, know when to give up." Shaw had turned his back again and picked up his cards, a clear dismissal.

"I know enough to see what wrong with your horse!" Erik blurted.

That caught the man's attention much better than Erik had expected. He'd been grasping at straws and it appeared that he'd gotten a hold of the right one.

"What's that?" the man asked levelly, turning back to face them, eyes finally alight with interest.

"The big white mare with the limp. I can find out what's wrong with her. If you let me stay on."

Shaw leaned back and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Our girl has had that bum foot for weeks now. That's our star act limping. You say you can fix it?"

"Well I might be able to." Erik shifted uncomfortably. One of their old hacks had once limped like that. Erik, then a young teen, had sat with the veterinarian during the examination. He decided not to mention the fact that his father had taken the old horse out the next day and shot it. It was a very real chance that the same would need to be done with this horse.

"I'll tell you what. Erik Lensherr, if you can get my star back to normal, you can stay."

Erik knew that it was a stretch but it was also the best he was going to get, "Yes sir, thank you sir!" he exclaimed, barely resisting the urge to grin at Logan triumphantly.

The men at the table resumed their game, and Erik was herded out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning of Erik's first official day with the circus found them pitching camp in a meadow on the outskirts of Cayuga Heights. The train was stopped when Alex Summers threw a pair of pants at his head to wake him.

"Up." He grunted, proceeding to pull his own clothes on. Erik groggily complied, pulling the trousers on over his shorts. Because of the early hour it took him longer than it normally would have to realize that the pants weren't his. They were about the right length but loose at the waist, as most pants tended to be for him. He picked at a thread at a seam and wondered if they were Alex's. But the boy was a good few inches too short for that to be true. Maybe they belonged to the mysterious Armando Munoz.

No matter who the pants' previous owner had been, they were much more suited for hard labor than the trousers he'd been wearing for the past three days. He'd have to see about borrowing some money to buy a good pair of boots too, he mused and more clothes. But then a pair of boots were thrown at him too.

"See if those fit." Summers grunted, "You're a bit taller than him but he had big feet"

The boots were a decent fit. Erik thanked Alex politely and the younger man shrugged, "there's a bunch of clothes in that trunk there," he motioned, "they're not being used, you might as well have them."

And then it was out into the early morning light. The field was already bustling with activity. Erik followed Alex for a few hours, positioning posts, hammering spikes and hauling the great spreads of canvas into place. Each job was done smoothly and rapidly. Under the hands of the many workers gigantic tents were pitched it mere minutes. By mid morning the circus had risen around him.

After that Alex disappeared to prepare for opening. He left Erik with the vague orders to "Try to look like you're doing something useful and not get underfoot."

He took that as an invitation to do a little exploring. The buzz of motion that had gripped the camp earlier had toned down while the performers went back to ready themselves for the afternoon shows. Erik meandered through the city of tents carrying a bucket and a broom that he'd found lying around in hopes that it made him look like he had a purpose.

A quarter of an hour later he was accosted by Sebastian Shaw.

"Erik!" He greeted, putting an arm over his shoulders amicably, "There you are my boy. Did you forget our little agreement?"

"No sir."

"Then lets get to it. Come along, the animals are this way."

They walked to the back end of the meadow, where the train sat still on the tracks. In the shade of the stand of trees beyond, the animal cages sat, wooden planks removed and beasts in plain sight. On the grass in front of them was the horse Erik had to heal.

"Well Erik, you've already met this beauty. This is the White Queen, star of the circus." The horse was already harnessed for the show, it appeared. It wore no saddle but white leather straps crossed its shoulders, studded with gleaming crystals. It's bridle was an ornate work of art, spun with the same fake (they had to be) gems. There were bits of the stuff in its mane and tail too, arranged in such a skillful way the it looked like there were snowflakes caught in the long white hair.

Erik moved around to the bad leg and had the horse lift it. "Queen is very, very popular with the audience. The kids especially love her, but so do the adults. The horse show is the top earning act out of them all, so I can't afford to have her injured." Shaw explained while Erik examined.

Erik recognized the problem immediately and his heart sank. It was not a recent wound; it was a split that would have had to have happened weeks, maybe months before. It was characteristic of a horse going without shoes and not receiving the proper hoof maintenance. The poor animal was likely in a substantial amount of pain and had been for too long.

The damage done by walking in an injury like that was irreparable. The kindest thing for the animal was to put it out of its misery as soon as possible.

Shaw stared at him when he said as much out loud. "Did you just suggest...that I shoot my star act?"

"Sir, it's only going to get worse, she's in pain as it is. If you keep showing her-"

"hmmm," Shaw regarded the horse silently for a moment, "Well it is good to know what the problem is at least..."

From behind Erik, a voice called out to Shaw, using his first name. It was the first time Erik had heard him addressed that way. "Sebastian!" the new, unfamiliar voice called. But Erik could give a pretty good guess to whole it belonged to. Charles drew level to them, leading another horse, this one pitch black. He tied the animal's plain lead to the post beside the White Queen. "Have you figured out what's the matter?"

His eyes meet Erik's for a moment, they were very blue, before flicking to Shaw. A wide, fond smile spread across the boss' face and he lied smoothly, "it's nothing really my boy, just a little sore. She will be fine."

"But is she okay to perform today? Should we let her rest maybe?"

"Nonsense," Shaw put his arm around the younger man in a manner that came off as supremely possessive to Erik, "She's perfectly able to go on. Now, you go fetch the others, the opening starts in ten minutes."

Charles nodded and with one more quick glance at Erik he departed. Erik looked at Shaw levelly. When the boy was out of range Shaw turned to pin Erik with a look, "I am not about to shoot my top act," he said cooly, "and you are foolish to suggest that I do. But you appear proficient with the beasts, so you may stay. Can you prevent an injury like this happening to any of the other horses?"

"Yes sir." he could, it was a simple matter of keeping their hooves well maintained.

"Then stay. I have to go ready myself. Go find some way to make yourself useful."

For the next few hours, Erik was kept busy with odd jobs assigned to him by a distracted Logan. He brought performers glasses of water, he mixed lemonade, he dragged props from one end of the field to the other. To his delight he even made use of years of engineering training at one point when the cotton candy machine broke down and he got it back up and running.

But as the afternoon wore on and more people were busy with the customers, Erik was able to slip into the big top to watch a couple of performances.

Surprisingly, Alex's act was one of his favourites. Logan had teased the young man, claiming that he was a clown, and while Erik supposed that it was the closest definition of what Alex did, there was nothing of the classic circus clown elements to his act.

Alex's face was streaked with makeup, but no bulbous red lips decorated his. White was smeared across his features, with smokey accents that were done to give him a tragically sickly appearance. Twin lines running down his cheeks where his own skin showed through, like tear tracts, interrupted the makeup.

Alex's act told the story of a boy with the power to bring chaos wherever we went. Shunned by society and chased by his people, Alex's character ran into the wilderness where he was captured by a demon. Beast, Alex's blue dog played the demon.

It was a very sad act, but enthralling and the audience sat enraptured. Erik even saw some ladies with handkerchiefs out, dabbing at their watery eyes.

It held the place as Erik's favourite act for most of the night. Up until the finale, and then Charles and his horses stole the show.

There were six horses besides the Frost Princess, two more pure white and four black as ink. Except for the Princess' jewels, the animals were unadorned. No saddles, no bridles. Charles, the lone human in the ring, swung from animal to animal without the aid of stirrups or reigns.

Charles wore the same crystals as the horse did. They glimmered in thick patches from his silver waistcoat. His legs were incased in tight white riding pants, tucked into low tightly-laced ankle-boots. Atop his shining hair say a small sparkling cap. He darted around the ring like a ray of pure light.

The act was breathtaking. It too spun a story, and it was just as sad as Alex's. Charles was a young boy who was raised by a heard of horses. So beloved by the queen of horses was he that he became their prince, riding everywhere on their backs. The joy if their bond was captured so perfectly as Charles danced at their feet and on their backs. Erik was just as captivated as the rest of the audience, but he noticed when, for one heart-stopping moment The White Queen's leg buckled, sending Charles from her back.

The young man managed to make the mistake look like part of the show, rolling on impact and spinning to his feet, quickly issuing a hand signal that brought all the horses to their knees alongside the injured one. The rest of the show passed without incident but Charles' face was burned into Erik's mind, tight with surprise and wide-eyed with fear as he fell.

In the story a long winter came, and though the horses made it through with their thick layers of muscle and fine coats, their little human proved too frail and succumbed to the cold. At that point in the show, Charles draped himself elegantly in the centre of the ring while the horses galloped around him, frenzied with supposed grief. Erik winced as one of the animals huge hooves crashed to the floor close to the young man's head.

The horses whirled and bucked in a dance of mourning, and then galloped out of the tent, leaving only the White Queen with Charles. The horse reared in one last show of despair and held position for a long moment, perched on hind legs. Then, slowly the animal sank down, to her knees beside the boy, finally collapsing fully beside her beloved human, joined in death.

Erik stood and clapped enthusiastically with the crowd. Charles rose and with a quick bow, hopped atop the horse and rode out of the tent to thunderous applause.

The crowd filed out of the big top and dispersed to look at the various sideshows. Erik paused at the entrance to a small tent to where Sean was singing in front of a modest audience. He quickly bypassed a crimson tent emblazoned with flames and a phoenix that proclaimed 'Madame Grey, Seer'. One of the massive men who'd been in Shaw's room the night before was lifting comically large weights, which had to be fake. 'Fat Fred, The Blob' read the sign above his head. Alex was there, twirling five red hula hoops in unison, and grabbed up another from a pile with his foot. An angry looking young man juggled fire. Most disturbingly was a kid who looked around seven or eight years old who was apparently 'Toad Boy'. Erik stood outside his cage and the cheeky kid stuck out his tongue. It was forked.

"Freaky little fella ain't he." Logan said from behind him.

"Sod off Logan!" the boy squealed.

"Shaddup Mort, you're not supposed to talk. Swamp monster, remember?"

The boy swore cheerfully, with words far to colourful for his age. Erik allowed Logan to tug him away toward a tent with a large crowd gathering outside. "Last job of the night Lensherr, then you can go to bed. Boss wants you to try out security detail."

They cut through the crowd and under the tents flap. Logan gave him a short summery of his duties, and what looked like a homemade baseball bat.

Erik stared at the blunt stick that has just been shoved roughly into his hands by a grinning Logan and, just to make sure he'd heard the man correctly, he repeated, "I'm supposed to hit customers in the head with this?"

"Not the paying ones." The burly man assured him around his unlit cigar (no smoking in the tents, but Logan apparently just liked the way he looked with one hanging from his lips) "they'll try to stick their heads under the tent to try and get a free show, you'll see, and it's our job to set 'em straight. Don't look so alarmed Lensherr, we don't hit 'em hard, just a love tap. It's almost therapeutic for us and they get a free lesson on morality."

Therapeutic. The man was a mental case. Erik shook his head but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth curling up into a grin.

Around them, the tent steadily filled with people. At the single entrance flap, two massive men checked tickets and IDs. This show wasn't one for the children, Logan leered at him.

They stood against the striped fabric at the back, Logan having dragged him to a spot directly facing the stage, the best seats in the house according to him. There were five other guys spread around the perimeter, each armed with a similarly blunt and dangerous object. They were all bulky individuals, Erik being the most slender by far but his height having prompted Logan to give him a try at security.

The music started playing, swirling seductively above the crowd from the cheap gramophone sitting on the stage. Then the performers made their entrance, strutting up the rickety stairs with coy waves and blown kisses, hips swaying in time to the tinny tune and hoots from the audience.

It wasn't long before Logan tapped Erik on the shoulder and jerked his head down. Between them, the fabric of the tent billowed and two freckled noses emerged attached to two youthful faces. Logan gave him a toothy grin which Erik found impossible not to return. Might as well try to have fun.

The peeping toms' twin yelps of dismay could be heard even above the swelling music and Erik snorted at their hasty retreat. He swung his club in front of him experimentally while the dancers in the stage rapidly shed clothing. This night might end up enjoyable after all.


	4. Chapter 4

"She isn't really all right, is she."

Charles was standing beside the water trough Erik had filled just minutes before. Erik wasn't really surprised to see him there. "Please tell me the truth Mr Lensherr, she shouldn't be performing should she."

"No." Erik admitted readily, eyes on the subject of their conversation. The horse was grazing lazily.

"She's getting worse?"

"Every day."

"And she won't get better." It wasn't a question so Erik didn't answer. He watched Charles from the corner of his eye. The young man...boy? It was hard to tell his age really, he had such a youthful face. But the way he was regarding the animal solemnly spoke of maturity. Erik guessed that he was a few years younger than his own twenty-four.

"Would you please do it? Would you put her out of her misery?"

Erik blinked in astonishment, "Shaw...Mr Shaw forbid me to."

"Is that a no?"

"It's your star act, without her the circus-"

"I remember when we bought her," Charles interrupted, voice very quiet, "Barely, it's one of my earliest memories. I was just a little kid and she was a yearling, such a spirited little filly." He turned his face to Erik and smiled softly. It was a very sweet smile and Erik's chest contracted strangely. "My father was the one who found her, he knew that the horses would draw crowds. I was just delighted to have horses."

He walked the stand beside the horse and its head came up with a nicker. Charles scratched under its mane, "I never liked calling her the White Queen, it's not a proper name," he said fondly, "So I called her Emma when I played with her because I wanted a baby sister named Emma so badly. I used to pretend that I was a horse and she really was my sister." He laughed.

"I can get you a gun," He said, the wistful tone of his reminiscing hardening and he looked Erik straight in the eye. "Will you do it?"

Erik agreed, of course he agreed. He probably would have eventually done it even without Charles' help. It was a completely reckless thing to do, but everything Erik had done in the past four days had been reckless, so really, what was one more. He could always run if Shaw was too angry to reason with. So when Charles came running back a minute later, an old hunting rifle clutched to his chest, Erik took it readily.

"Come in here." Charles said quietly, grabbing the horse's bridle and leading her up the ramp and into the train car. When they were all inside, Charles slid the door shut and gestured to the animal, both palms facing down and pushing forward. The horse folded to its knees and onto its side exactly like in the show, during the final seen when she succumbed to her grief for the boy's death. A puff of air whooshed through its nostrils as if in great relief. Charles sat down beside her and began rhythmically stroking her neck.

Erik hesitated, wanting to give the younger man a moment. Charles looked at him gratefully and presses a soft kiss to the animal's fluttering ear. Then he leaned back and resumed petting, nodding at Erik jerkily.

Erik stepped up to the beautiful white horse, thinking briefly of the sheer waste, and laid the muzzle against its head where it was sure to enter the brain and kill the animal instantly. "You should look away." he said quietly, but Charles shook his head, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth. Erik put his finger on he trigger. Pulled.

Charles didn't cease petting even as the blood sank into the straw at his knees. His face was carefully blank.

"It's funny, isn't it, that I can get a horse to dance, but yet I don't even know enough to get it to lift it's foot. First thing they're trained to do." He laughed, but it was a strangled sound.

"It's not your fault," Erik responded automatically, "You were never taught how."

"I should have learned though." Charles insisted.

All Erik knew was that he hated the sight of this young man hating himself. "I can teach you," he said, "I can show you how to properly clean their hooves and trim them. This will never happen again."

They were both silent for a minute. Then, "Thank you." Charles murmured. And louder, "Thank you, Erik, I knew that you'd help, that you'd care enough to do this. You should leave now, someone will have heard that and Sebastian will be here soon and he won't like what he finds."

Erik nodded and laid the rifle in the ground, turned to leave. Charles stayed where he was on the floor, "Will you-"

"I'll be alright," he said, not making eye contact, "I can handle Sebastian's anger. You need to go."

Erik nodded, still not liking leaving Charles alone with the body to face the consequences, but he walked out the door anyway, quickly breaking into a jog to get away from the scene.

He was able to go about his day without confrontation until just before noon. Then he was seized from behind and slammed into a wall.

Shaw didn't touch him once. The hands that punched Erik in the stomach, and rubbed his face into the ground belonged to his goons. But the voice that hissed into his ears was most definitely his.

"What the hell have you done?" The man snarled as the hands, they belonged to the hairy blond, Victor, Erik recalled, ground his face into the gravel for emphasis, "you've just killed off my star is what you've done! I told you Lensherr, that I wanted my animal ready for show, not dead!"

Erik felt spittle hit the side of his face and he shuddered, dirt in his mouth. "Charles tells me that you did it because you felt that the horse was unsafe for him, that you thought that, if he continued to ride her, there might be an accident."

Responding vocally would just let more earth into his mouth so Erik did his best to nod. So technically he'd never said that to the boy, but it was actually true.

"He also said that you are much more proficient with caring for the creatures than anyone else we have. Which is very lucky, our groom had an...unfortunate spill last year and we've been without one since."

Shaw's voice had been moving away, as if he was pacing a little ways off. Now it drew close again, back in Erik's ear, "But this kind of...blatant disregard for my authority, it won't be tolerated Mr Lensherr. Charles pleaded your case well this time, I won't be so forgiving if it happens again, is that clear?"

Erik nodded as vigorously as he could, but, "I asked if that was clear Mr Lensherr."

"Y-yes...Sir!" Erik choked out, gagging as pebbles and mud were forced past his tongue. He was dragged, coughing and spitting, to his feet. Shaw stood directly in front of him, and though he was at least an inch shorter than Erik, he glared at him like he was a bug.

"Leave us." Shaw said to the two men who'd held him down. They nodded and obeyed, Victor giving Erik a parting sneer over his broad shoulder.

"Now, your main job will be helping Charles with the horses, doing the jobs that he, as a performer and my ward shouldn't have to. Mucking out, grooming, feeding, the likes. But you will also do these things for the other animals." Erik followed Shaw to a locked car, which he opened and stepped inside. The smell was wretched, of decomposing meat and vegetables, moldy bread and grain. On the floor was what looked like a pile of garbage.

"All of the animals eat this." Shaw explained, grabbing a bucket and shoving it into Erik's hands, "Not the horses of course, but the cats and hyenas and such. Get two buckets full and follow me."

Their first stop was at the cage of the show's only male lion. "This here's Azazel." Shaw smiled. Tapping the bars with a riding crop, "Go ahead and open the door, put the bucket in." he tapped the handle of a small gate. It was right at the lion's head.

Erik stared at the beast nervously. It was huge and russet-coloured, with a short dirty mane and a heavily scarred face. It looked mean and hungry.

"Don't dawdle!" Shaw snapped, "We have three hours until show time and a whole circus to feed."

Erik swallowed and reached for the latch. Surly Shaw wouldn't tell him to do it if it was truly dangerous. The cat was probably so used to humans that it wouldn't strike. He door swung open with a creak and the lion's head rose. Erik stilled, Shaw huffed in annoyance, and Erik put the bucket of rotten slop into the cage.

With a snarl the lion lunged and closed its jaws around his hand.

Erik shouted hoarsely and reeled back, terror blinding him to anything but the lion, the lion that had his hand, his hand! Then he was on the ground and Shaw was above him cackling. Erik gaped at the man, and then at his hand, which was wet with saliva...but still intact.

Shaw was delighted by his expression, "No teeth!" he wheezed between hoots, "None of the dumb animals...have teeth!" he laughed and laughed, as if Erik hadn't just had the most terrifying experience of his life.

They were then onto feed the four lionesses, two tigers, four hyenas, two monkeys and single grizzled old black bear. All received the same blend of rotting leftovers, which seemed wrong to Erik, that monkeys were eating the same thing as the cats. The rest of the beasts got hay from the same cart as the horses.

Shaw must have seen his expression as he closed the door to the monkeys' cage, because his gaze turned sharp. "Of course, I'd like to be able to serve my lions filet mignon, and my chimps fresh bananas and mangos, but you must understand Mr Lensherr, what a precarious living running a circus is."

Ah, Erik had noticed the subtle signs of poverty scattered throughout the camp, the gems on Charles' glittering vest were just glass, the workers mattresses stuffed with moldy hay, the cheap booze. Apparently here was no need to be subtle when it came to the animals.

By the time Erik joined in the preparations for the show word had spread about his and Charles' miniature rebellion.

"You're crazy!" Sean crowed as they made their way to the tent in which the dancing girls waited for the armfuls of mended costumes they were delivering. "He' crazy!" He announced as they stepped into the shade of the tent.

"Mmmm is he?" one of the women hummed and her eyes swept over him appreciatively as she lent in close to take the bundle from him, "and does crazy have a name?"

Erik now understood why Sean had pledged so fiercely that laundry duty was the best job in the circus. The boy had managed to time their arrival so that the dozen or so women were ready and waiting for their clothes...mostly naked.

"Well ladies, come and get 'em!" Sean hollered with a crooked grin that he probably thought looked dashing, but in reality made him look about fifteen and an idiot.

The women took it cheerfully, used to him and came up to claim their costumes, pinching his cheeks and tugging at his curls making him blush and pout. One of the youngest looking of the girls, god she looked young, punched him in the arm. "Hands to yourself Cassidy!" she exclaimed.

"Pssh yea right Marie, like I'd dare Logan's wrath just to feel you up."

The girl blushed and snatched up her clothes, "Screw you Cassidy."

"When and where?"

"Ugh, pig."

Erik grinned at the pair's banter. He stood patiently and helped the women sort through the clothes to find each of their respective costumes. Normally he would feel extremely uncomfortable in this situation, in a room full of half naked women. He'd never felt quite at ease around girls, even in high school. Magda had been his only real female friend, they were both German immigrants and their parents knew each other. She had wanted more than friendship, Erik knew, she hadn't exactly been subtle about it.

It would have thrilled his parents, if he'd married Magda. It was everything they'd dreamed of for their son. A nice Jewish German girl, pretty, educated. They got along with her parents, they thought Magda was a sweetheart. And she _was_ sweet. Erik had liked her, and yet he had never pursued a relationship. God knows he had enough chances to, they'd met in first year when they were nineteen and had at least one class together every year since.

But there had always been something. First year they'd been too young, second, his mother had fallen ill for some time and he'd needed to focus on that. Third, a storm had flooded the creek near their home ruining their crop and the consequent monetary problems had kept Erik preoccupied. Forth year Erik had started an apprenticeship through the university on top of a full course load. Final year he'd needed to focus on the final exams.

There had always been an excuse. Magda had been understanding. She'd dated other men, but it was always brief and ended without much fuss or heartbreak. Magda had loved him, Erik had delayed. Then Erik left.

He did feel bad, for leaving without telling her and for not thinking of it until now. In fact he hadn't thought about home much at all since the first night. During the day he was simply kept too busy, and by nightfall he was either too tired or too drunk to do anything other than fall onto his mattress and directly asleep.

He wondered if, after this adventure is over, after this temporary, because it _was_ temporary, lapse of sanity has passed and Erik returns to acceptable society, if he will seek her out. Marry Magda, have babies that would also have babies.

He couldn't seem to picture it. He was standing in a circus tent handing dancing girls their lingerie. If he didn't think about Magda for a week after he left her in the examination room with no explanation, Erik felt pretty certain that was a sign that he didn't love her.

He'd always suspected that he didn't return her feelings. He'd spent many a long night tossing and turning, feeling the expectations like an ocean above him, and asked himself if he loved her. If he really had, he thought, he wouldn't have ever had to wonder.

He dancers were pouting and whining that he wasn't paying them enough attention, so Erik pulled himself out of his mind and tried to smile politely and respond to their flirtatious questions.

Finally, after what felt like hours of awkward conversation, there was only one garment left in Erik's hands. Erik blinked. Okay, the dancers dressed...slinkily, but this tiny dress seemed a little extreme. There was no way an adult woman could wear it without bursting out at the seams, and those bows were a little more childish than the target style of the group.

And that dancer was a little shorter than most.

Oh...it was a toddler. Erik looked around to see if an early customer was close by searching for a lost child. Then he looked at the tiny dress in his hands. Ah, the child was dressed in nothing but a pair of faded shorts. Good to see that ivy league education shining through.

"Is this...yours?" He asked the tiny girl in front of him. Holding the dress out tentatively.

The girl's round cheeks split in a massive smile that was half tooth half gum. "My dress!" she squealed, reaching her chubby hands up and, rather than taking the thing, latched onto his trouser leg.

Erik looked around wildly, but no one was paying him attention anymore, all too busy rushing to be easy for the first show of the night. Erik shifted his weight off the leg the little girl had claimed, and shook it experimentally. The toddler shrieked in gleeful laughter.

"Raven!" Finally somebody noticed the clingy baby, "stop bothering Mr Lensherr!" One of the dancers approached. She was a dark skinned beauty, talk and thin with what appeared to be naturally silver hair.

Raven scowled and shook her head, strawberry blonde curls bouncing, and pressed her face against Erik's knee.

"Hey look, you've got a growth!" Sean seemed to be leaving the girls alone at last, "is it operable? Are you going to make it Lensherr?"

"San!" Raven yelled, letting go much to Erik's relief, and hurling herself at the boy instead. The silver-haired dancer darted forward and grabbed her before she could get her arms around another victim.

"Sorry Raven," she said, "but we have to leave. Do you know what time it is?"

"SO TIME!" Raven howled and then dissolved into giggles.

"Yup, it's showtime." She turned to Sean and Erik, "Thanks guys but you'd best get going, I'll bet Logan's looking for you."

"Yea probably, see ya later Ororo."

The woman, Ororo, waved with on hand and carried Raven into the back of the tent where the other were waiting. Sean and Erik headed out in search of Logan.

Searching for Logan consisted basically of wandering around slowly and waiting for the big man to find them. In fact, Erik felt as if Sean was purposely avoiding the places that Logan was most likely to be. At some point the younger boy had filched a bag of cotton candy and was munching it happily.

"Raven is sort of the ladies' pet slash adopted daughter slash little sister," He explained between bites when Erik asked, "Her mother was a dancer, died the same day she was born because Shaw wouldn't let them stop the train to find a doctor. The father was one of the laborers, and when Shaw discovered that one of his dancers was pregnant, and therefor unable to work, he gave him the boot. That left the little miss basically an orphan. I think Shaw would have just left her in the nearest town with a church or something, but the ladies managed to keep her from him and they are raising her together. She helps them with little things, fetches them water and jewelry and the like."

"Like their servant?"

"More like miniature assistant? Like I said, I think some of them think of her as a pet. But you can't blame them Erik, they're doing their best. None of them really know how to be mothers here, and their jobs are their first priority. They take care of her though, dote on her even. She always has enough to eat and clothes to wear."

And that's about all you could hope for here, Erik supposed. His thoughts linger on the little girl, an orphan. Erik was an orphan now too, he wondered how many of the people around him had no parents. Probably a lot. The circus was not a place for people with loved ones.

"So that girl, Marie," Erik said when Sean was shoving the last of his cotton candy into his mouth, "is she Logan's-"

"She's my nothing Lensherr and you won't go digging around her if you know what's good for you."

"Logan!" Sean said cheerfully, "we found you at last!"

"I've been looking for you boys for over an hour where the hell have you been? Show's started."

"Trying to change the subject Logan?" Sean asked with a grin, then whispered conspiratorially, "Miss Anna Marie luuurrrves our man Mr Hewlett here, but Mr Howlett is a cold-hearted bastard who pines for the lovely Madame Grey who is currently involved with out mutual friend Mr Scott Summers. In his anguish Mr Howlett takes up with multiple ladies for hire, consequently breaking Miss Anna Marie's heart. But if the young Miss would just open her eyes she would see one dashing Mr LeBeau, resident magician extraordinaire who is infatuated with her, bless his poor soul, for he could have any number of bonny lasses panting after him, Bella, Donna, Mary, Laura, all unattached young misses, all shining for Mr LeBeau, but no! Mr LeBeau wants Miss Anna Marie!And of course, there was the scandal of Mr Drake's affair with Miss Pryde, who is also Mr LeBeau's assistant! Broke many hearts that did."

"Don't gossip about me Cassidy!"

"Just catching Erik up on the latest big top drama Logan, the man needs to be informed! It's not like the whole camp doesn't already know about your twisted love-octagon or whatever it is at this point."

There were no chances for Erik to watch the show this time, but the sound of the crowd was a constant background to the nights chores. They patched tents, shepherded animals from their carts to tents and back, they carried supplies for the food tent, brought water to the performers, shoveled dung. There always seemed to be dung to shovel.

The patrons were loud as they enjoyed everything the circus had to offer but every now and again applause would ripple above their hubbub. When the music that accompanied the horse show began, Erik listened closely and went over the performance in his head and wondering how Charles would compensate for the missing horse.


	5. Chapter 5

Erik didn't know what to expect when he made his way to Shaw's quarters for dinner. He did have a few guesses though, and plenty of time to steel himself for what he was pretty much certain he would find.

After the message had come for a late supper with the boss in his rooms, delivered by the stocky man called Gabe, the eldest Summers brother and a permanent fixture on the security crew, Erik tried his best to make himself presentable. He didn't have much to work with, a basin of slightly dingy water a communal razor and a small cracked shaving mirror that Logan had, but apparently didn't use often going by the state of his cheeks.

Alex Summers watched with dark eyes from the corner of the room as Erik shaved for the first time in a week, and wet his greasy hair back from his forehead. The trunk of used clothes provided him with a lightly yellowed, but still presentable dress shirt which was only a bit loose, and some brown slacks held up around his narrow hips by a pair of suspenders. As he futilely scrubbed at the dirt caked under his nails, Erik envisioned the scene that he suspected would greet him when he arrived.

The 'private dinner' would probably include at least two or three of Shaw's henchmen. It was obviously a play to intimidate Erik, and the next couple hours would be spent in tense conversation with the man while being leered at by bloodthirsty brutes. Erik could handle it, he was certain. A little bit of awkward conversation was nothing; he'd suffered through years of that at frat parties and pretty much the entirety of high school.

But there was only one person at the table when Shaw greeted him at the door. Charles smiled at him tightly from behind a table set with a whole roast chicken and a heaping plate of potatoes.

It was the first time Erik had laid eyes on the boy since they'd...dealt with the injured horse. He looked much the same, somehow still just as clean as if he'd had a bath that day, hair still damp and pushed behind his ears. His shirt was crisp and white, collar left unbuttoned a little too low and Erik caught a glimpse of a dark bruise at the base of his neck, on the left side. It looked fresh, just purpling and Erik was sure it hadn't been there that morning. The young man followed Erik's gaze and flushed, fastening the shirt up fully.

"Erik!" Shaw exclaimed cheerfully from across the room, "Come in, come in, welcome!" he was dressed in the same white shirt and pressed black pants as Charles, but with a black smoking jacket over top. Erik feels very underdressed in his dingy hand-me-downs. Shaw seemed to have foreseen this and held out a bundle of clothes with a sickly sweet smile.

"Its not often that we welcome an Ivy Leaguer into our ranks m'boy, so indulge an old romantic and throw these on, make this a real feast." Erik was tempted to refuse, but this was, as he'd expected, an attempt to make him feel humiliated and if he made a fuss he'd only be playing into Shaw's hands. So Erik accepted the clothes, never breaking eye contact.

When he emerged from the trailer's small wash closet minutes later, decked out in the fine clothes that, to his surprise, fit him perfectly, Shaw was nowhere in sight. 

"He's gone to fetch some wine from the cooler." Charles said when he entered, "He's been saving a lovely chardonnay for an excuse to have a dinner. He'll be back in a minute."

"So do you throw parties for every new recruit who jumps your train?"

"No," Charles admitted laughing weakly, "Sebastian is just excited. He's been feeling a bit down lately, money hasn't been coming in quite as well as it used to, the times have hit us all." he was fiddling with the frayed edge of the floral tablecloth, "you're arrival, really, is like a gift."

"Did he say that?"

"Not in as many words, no," this time his laugh was warmer, more genuine, "but it is, you already saw, we have laborers, we have performers, but an embarrassingly low number of people who actually know what they are doing with the animals. It's easy for the most part, they have been in shows their whole lives and can basically run the routines by themselves, but with matters like, like today, we are a bit inexperienced. So thank you Erik, what you did was amazing."

"You already thanked me. Twice. Earlier today."

"I know, and I meant it every time."

Erik returned his smile wryly, "You thanked me three times now, and I have yet to thank you."

"You don't need to."

"Yes, I do. I have a feeling that it my situation would have been very different if you hadn't spoken for me. I hear quite a few tales involving speeding trains and unfortunate missteps."

Charles' face fell and he suddenly seemed unable to look Erik in the eyes, "Yes well, Sebastian has a bit of a temper that's all. But once you talk him down from it he's a very reasonable man."

"And how long did it take you to reason with him this morning?" Erik asked, thoughts in the hidden bruise.

Charles was very red and looking everywhere but Erik's face, "I-"

"Here we are!" Shaw reentered the compartment, a bottle of wine in each hand, "Charles dear, get the glasses out will you? That's my boy!"

Charles busies himself filling their glasses with the lovely smelling wine while Shaw settles into his chair. "So, Erik. Tell us a little about yourself."

He was really not in the mood to share his life's story with a man who'd so far only given him reasons to dislike him, so he supplied the abridged version of events. Immigrant parents, grew up on a farm, got into Cornell on a scholarship, parents passed, Erik jumped a train. Nothing for Shaw to read too far into, no weaknesses for him to pluck up.

Or maybe there were. Over the next few hours Erik carefully fielded Shaw's 'polite' inquiries about his parents, how they died, his reasons for leaving home. Charles tried to help, throwing in questions about the days work, commenting on the upcoming bills to try and kickstart the economy, telling cheerful little stories about people who'd worked at the circus. But Shaw just kept bringing the conversation back to Erik's personal life. He appreciated the effort though.

Despite the dismal state of the conversation, the food was the best Erik had tasted since arriving at the circus. Here, it seemed, Shaw was unwilling to let quality decline. The chicken was moist and deliciously seasoned; the potatoes were crisped to perfection. And the wine, the wine was what gave Erik the strength to keep acting like he was enjoying himself. And once they'd finished the wine, it was the scotch that Shaw brought out. Oh yes, the scotch was delightful.

At some point Erik migrated to the chaise wedged in the corner, sprawled with one leg over the arm while Shaw and Charles spun around the small room to a scratchy record. Charles had protested when Shaw grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet, blushing and looking at Erik awkwardly. Erik, feeling gracious, or maybe just drunk, had waved them on encouragingly, possibly just so that he could have the rest of the scotch to himself.

Maybe it should have felt stranger to see two men dancing, but the influence of alcohol that had transformed the room and all of its faded glory and rotting decadence into a stately ballroom had similarly changed he spectacle that would normally make Erik uncomfortable into something near beautiful.

The golden light of the lamps set the room in an amber haze, haze from the cigarettes Shaw and Erik had smoked. Charles had sat on Shaw's lap, where the man had pulled him, and submitted to having Shaw's cigarette lifted to his mouth ever few minutes to take drags, never holding one of his own. The action was so possessive that Erik would have found it funny if it weren't so sad.

With the alcohol relaxing his mind and body, Erik could appreciate the lovely music and ignore the poor quality of the record. He could enjoy the way the light cast flattering shadows over the dancers faces, at once making Shaw look younger and Charles older. This Charles' hair was inky black, Erik observed with wonder, and gleamed like the moon on a lake. His cheeks were rosy from the wine, and as Erik watched Shaw leaned down and pressed his lips to one, than the other.

Charles was objecting to something. He seemed uncomfortable with Erik there and that made Erik sad. Perhaps Charles hadn't had enough of the wonderful wine, and he was just about to say as much when Shaw grabbed the boy's face and brought it forward for a passionate kiss.

Oh. Erik felt his face heat up from more than just the wine. Shaw was carrying on as if Erik wasn't there, with much groping and stroking that was fast turning indecent. But Charles certainly didn't seem to have forgotten that they weren't alone. He pushed his hands (oddly smaller and more delicate than Erik remembers thinking them before) against Shaw's chest and struggled weakly.

Erik in his drunken state was slow to respond and foolish when he finally did. He rose from the chaise, swaying slightly and groped around until his fist closed around a decorative (rusty) candle holder.

Charles managed to free his face from Shaw's greedy mouth but the man simply tugged him closer and relocated to his neck. Erik's mind flashed to the bruise again and his grip on the candelabra tightened, the motion feeling inexplicably right.

But Charles' eyes were staring at him, wide and alarmed at the metal clutched by his side, pinning him in place. He shook his head jerkily and gasped, "Sebastian!" and when the man didn't listen, "Sebastian please! Stop this, you're hurting me!"

This confused Erik for a moment (damn the wine) as although he could see that Charles was flustered and embarrassed, Shaw hadn't done much that could have actually hurt him. But the words are more than effective, and the ravaging of the young man ceased immediately, and Shaw drew back as if stung. His hands loosened and fluttered like butterflies, up Charles' arms, over his shoulders and face, stroking lightly his lips as he whispered apologies.

"It's okay, I'm alright," Charles was reassuring him softly, pulling at Shaw's hands and entwining their fingers, "It only hurt a little, I was just a little scared. No, don't worry I understand. Yes just excited. Yes of course I know."

Erik stood there dumbly as the intimate exchange drew to a close and Charles extracts himself from Shaw, although the man refused to relinquish one of his hands. His blue eyes are apologetic and beseeching all at once as he dragged Shaw over to the lounge that Erik had vacated.

The man went easily, drained and drunk now that the high of the moment has passed, pliable in Charles' hands as the man pushed him down and removed his coat. "Mr Lensherr," he mumbled groggily, "My sinsheer...sincere 'pologies, I acted most horriblistly. For you see, Mr Lensherr, I-I am under a shpell. Yes hopelessly...without hope...under a shpell of the most powerfulest sort. This beautiful, lovely, enchantering young man is a wizard Mr Lensherr! You'd better believe it a wizard! Made me fall in love he did, on first sight I knew I just had to have 'im, and I wouldn't not rest until I did!"

Shaw allowed himself to be settled into a reclining position but tugged Charles down with him, tucking the boy under his arm securely. Charles looked bemused, but relented to his situation and squirmed slightly to get comfortable.

Shaw's eyes flickered to Erik's hand and he looked rather confused, eyes info using and focusing several times before he slurred, "Whatchya doin with tha there Lensherr? ...izza...izza candle..."

And with that Charles and Erik were left alone, soft snores drifting between them.

Erik found himself unable to speak, his current mental and emotional state seeming to hinder the line of communication between his brain and mouth. But Charles seemed grateful for the silence, so Erik resigned himself to it and sank to the floor beside the lounge after replacing the candelabra on the end table. The bottle of scotch lay abandoned within reach so Erik snatched it up and drank straight from the bottle. He leaned heavily against the arm of the lounger and did his best to ignore how Charles' breath fanned against his ear.

The next thing he knew he was blinking blearily against the morning sun. Since nobody had been in the frame of mind to close the curtains, it was horrifically early, especially considering the hour they'd stayed up until. Erik estimated he'd gotten no more than five hours of sleep. And oh boy waking up wasn't a graceful affair.

His head throbbed, eyes burned, the fine suit Shaw had lent him stuck to his body with dried sweat and spilled booze. His mouth was impossibly dry.

He made his way painfully to his feet, bracing himself against an intense head-rush, and surveyed the room. No water in sight, and the remains of their dinner lay cold on the table. The sight made Erik's stomach rebel with a lurch and he fought to keep it from returning everything from last night.

On the chaise Shaw and Charles slept on, the sun not yet falling over them. Erik's memories were foggy, but he recalled the way Shaw had grabbed the younger man, heedless of his struggles and anger bloomed fresh in him. Charles' shirt was unbuttoned at the top and that bruise glared dark and purple above his pale collar bone.

Now that Erik was looking, daylight revealed even more marks dotting the otherwise smooth skin of his neck and chest. They were mostly love-bites, but there were faint, half healed scratches there too. His stomach lurched from more than the brutal hangover, the sight of Shaw's arm draped over Charles, and his hand pressed against the smaller man's chest was more sickening than the after effects of the booze. He tried to calm himself, it really wasn't any of his business what went on between the two men. If Charles was being mistreated he should get help himself or leave the circus.

But all Erik's mind could do was replay the memory of Charles stroking his beloved horse as Erik clicked off the safety of the rifle. Suddenly he couldn't bear to spend another minute in the room.

Alex was just rising from his cot when Erik closed the door to their room behind him. He was hoping to grab an hour more of sleep in an actual bed, and started toward his mattress when Alex's hand shot out and slammed into his chest.

Okay so maybe the boy didn't really hit him hard enough to fall over, but Erik wasn't exactly in prime form at the moment. He blinked up incredulously, "What the-"

"Nice monkey suit," Alex snarled with so much venom that Erik's mild irritation at being pushed shattered and all he could do was gape stupidly, "I'm surprised, you've managed to assimilate yourself much faster than I would have thought possible, congratulations."

"Alex listen-"

"It's Summers to you Ivy League!"

"...Summers. It's not-"

"It's not is it? Then where are the clothes you had on when you left, eh? Ditched them for some better duds as soon as you could I bet, 'cause a negros clothes just weren't good enough were they! Too good to wear Armando's clothes to dinner with the man who murdered him, that's real nice Ivy League, real classy." He spat, not on Erik at least, but the motion still held the same wrath

Shaw had taken the clothes after Erik had changed, plucked them up between thumb and finger distastefully and whisked them away before Erik could protest. Who knows where they were now.

"You know what, get out. I can't stand to look at you, sitting on his bed you make me sick. Get the fuck out!"

Erik managed to just get all of his limbs into the hallway before the door slammed behind him. He stood, dumbstruck for a minute until Scott Summers passed by on his way out into the yard and Erik made to follow.

"You going to work in those?" The man asked skeptically, eying Erik up and down. Despite his initial negative reaction to Erik, Scott had warmed up to him as soon as he was officially employed. It seemed that unlike his brother, Scott had nothing personal against him and had just been reacting to the threat he posed to his job.

The sound of something shattering and a low bark from the Beast sounded from inside the room and Scott winced. "Ah," he said, voice filled with understanding "Gotcha. Come on then Lensherr, daylights a-wasting."


	6. Chapter 6

There wasn't nearly the same amount of work to do when the company was in transit. The animals still had to be fed and compartments kept clean, but all in all there was a lot more down time during the traveling days.

For some reason Shaw seemed to have taken it upon himself to become Erik's friend, despite the fact that the man obviously didn't trust him, and had in fact gone out of his was to slight him several times now. But Erik saw through the farce, and when Shaw dragged him to his quarters for drinks, or had him sit with him while he did the weekly figures, Erik kept his guard up. He didn't allow himself to get drunk again, and carefully chose each word when in conversation with the boss.

Power, it was all about power. The shows were little things that, on anybody else could be written off as simple momentary quirks, but from this man were quite clearly demonstrations of rank.

Charles was his favourite way of displaying just how in charge he was. Shaw kept the young man on a short leash at all times. He didn't really seem to have any friends, even though everybody appeared to like him well enough.

"He's kind of, you know, snobby I think is the problem." Scott said when Erik commented on it. The two of them watched from where they were seated at the cramped workers' lunch table in the dining tent as the subject of their conversation stood alone in line. The train had stopped at some point in the night, and after three days of transit they were once again setting up camp. "He never really mingles with the rest of the guys see, he never sits with them at meals, doesn't come into town on the nights off, has never bothered to help out with things that aren't directly his responsibility. In fact its weird to even see him in here. Comes off as a bit arrogant. Personally I don't give a shit. The kid's polite, gets his stuff done without a fuss, and doesn't try to put moves on my girl, so I have no problem with him. Some other guys though take offense."

Erik frowned at his plate of stew, which was mostly over-cooked vegetables and potatoes and very little meat. Every time he talked to Charles the younger man seemed nothing but sweet. "Maybe Shaw just doesn't let him do any of those things, have they ever thought of that?"

"I'd believe it. Seems like something the boss-man would do. He's very protective."

"More like possessive! Why does a good kid like Charles put up with it?"

"Would you believe love?"

Erik glared at his companion, mood darkening even more than it already was.

"Because that's what they claim. Shaw has had Charles wrapped around his finger since he hit puberty. Before that he didn't really pay attention to him and Charles actually played with the other kids and fooled around and stuff, but once he grew up and got all pretty, well, Shaw got interested."

"Puberty? How long has he been here exactly?"

"Oh longer than anybody else, longer than Shaw even. Charles was born in the circus. His father was the owner at the time, and after his parents died he became Shaw's ward."

"Ward! But how can Shaw..." Erik trailed off, disgusted. Shaw had been young Charles' father figure, how can he have looked at him that way?

"I don't know, by the time I joined they were already like this. But Jean says that after a certain point Shaw started keeping him close, not letting him play with them anymore."

That bastard! Erik followed Charles with his eyes as he reached the front of the slop line and Cook poured him a bowl of stew. The big man, grizzled with age had never said a word to Erik in the time he'd been with the circus, and he didn't speak to Charles either, but as Erik watched, Cook smiled toothlessly and plunked an extra scoop of stew, and a huge chunk of bread right on top.

And this, Erik thought, was exactly why people might think that Charles was a snob. That was half a loaf of bread balanced on the edge of his bowl. On a good day the rest of them could expect a moldy end of crust. The performers tended to be granted a better share, a decent slice of mostly unspoiled bread.

The entire company tiptoed around young Charles, treating him better than everyone because they were frightened of what Shaw would do if they didn't. But then when they saw others doing the same, they grew resentful and jealous. It was a vicious circle and the poor man was stuck in the middle.

So Erik stuck his hand in the air and called "Charles! Over here!"

Scott stared at him in disbelief but Erik kept his gaze on the figure across the room, who'd jumped, spooked and swung his wide eyes to find who had yelled at him. When he spotted Erik he hesitated, looking to the door and back again. Erik fixed an overly cheerful grin on his face and waved.

"What are you doing?" Scott groaned, "This is the workers' table, he can't sit here!"

"Is that a rule? Is it written down anywhere?"

"Well no but...Erik I know you don't like Shaw but this isn't-"

"This has nothing, okay it has very little to do with Shaw." Erik replied, shoving sideways into the man next to him to clear a seat for Charles.

"Um, hello Erik, Scott." Scott nodded in return and Charles hovered beside the table looking torn between fleeing and sinking into the floor.

"Join us, have a seat." Erik suggested instead and Charles obeyed immediately, placing his food self consciously on the table and sliding in beside Erik.

It was odd for a while, and okay maybe Erik hadn't thought it through, they talked about the weather, the upcoming cities on the route, but it slowly grew more casual as they all relaxed. It turned out that at one point Charles had been rather close to Scott's girlfriend Jean, so they talked about her for a bit. Eventually the conversation turned to the financial state of the country as a whole and the circus in itself.

"Yes but the animals had fresh meat today, yet we have to settle for this slop. Sean, who'd joined them shortly after Charles had interjected, stirring at his half finished stew.

Erik looked over at Charles and the other man met his eyes. There had been one advantage in the Frost Queen's death. But Cook had drawn the line at serving horse meat to his human consumers.

"The shipment is due tomorrow Sean, I'm sure you can last that long." Scott intoned. His own plate was wiped clean.

Erik noticed that Charles had barely eaten anything, only nibbled on his bread and half-heartedly stirred his stew. He wondered if the man felt uncomfortable eating with them, but then followed the path of his eyes to the fence that formed the border between the crew's area and the public grounds. At the last location Erik had noticed that the food tent drew a group of people from the town, but there seemed to be at least twice as many tonight. A dozen or so men milled around on the other side of the fence, watching them silently. On the bench beside him, Charles' leg jumped, and his foot started tapping. The man's expression was troubled, with a flash of white tooth worrying at his pink lower lip.

"Ignore them." A voice from directly behind Erik made goosebumps raise along his spine and beside him Charles flinched with surprise and twisted in his seat to look up at Shaw. Erik kept his head forward, back ridged. Shaw moved around to the other side of the table, and the boy seated across from Charles, an all-purpose laborer named Calvin, just about fell over in his hurry to give up his seat.

"Charles my boy, I'm very surprised to find you here. You usually prefer to eat in your tent." Something about the way Shaw said it gave Erik the impression that Charles didn't usually have much choice in the matter. Shaw was sitting now, in Calvin's vacated spot. Around them the tent's occupants hushed, the jovial buzz of conversation dropping to a murmur.

Shaw was staring at Charles expectantly, waiting for an answer. "...Well you see, Erik was kind enough to invite me to join them and I thought it might be nice...just for a change of pace." he said, voice soft.

"Of course, of course, are you enjoying yourself?"

Charles nodded tentatively, seeming to weigh which answer Shaw wanted to hear first. "Yes it's nice to have a change of scenery."

"Scenery hmm? Like that?" Shaw jerked his head toward the men by the fence. "Hopefuls." he said to Erik, "They want me to hire them. But I did a round of recruiting earlier and we've got everyone we need."

"Well they don't seem to have been informed of that." Erik said dryly, dipping his piece of bread, which was even smaller than Sean's, into his stew.

Shaw chuckled and shook his head, "They have, you can be sure of that, the poor sods are just so desperate for work that they'll reduce themselves to begging. Oh these times we live in." he pulled a tarnished silver flask from inside his jacket and took a mouthful of whatever liquor it held.

"How many did you hire this time Sebastian?" Charles leaned forward on his elbows to address the older man. His voice had taken on a chipper edge, but it was almost too much, too loud and too cheerful. Too interested, as if the rest of the world had disappeared and this man was all that Charles could see in a horrible, stifling, trapped kind of way.

"Six." Shaw answered causally, "Five workmen and a young trapeze artist by the name of Worthington. He's young but he's good. Well on his way to being the best so I'm told."

"That's marvelous Sebastian, Jean-Paul will be thrilled to have a new member of the team."

"More importantly though, my dear, is that I have a surprise for you."

"Oh? What is it?" Erik thought that the young man looked a little nervous behind his smile.

"I have procured an elephant!" Shaw announced, voice bursting with pride and eyes shining gleefully, "An old female named Maggie, short for Magnet actually, because she's guaranteed to draw crowds."

Charles smiled brightly, but Erik could feel that under the table, his leg had started jumping again with renewed vigor. "Oh wonderful." he said with tight cheer, "Uhm...how much did she cost out of curiosity?"

Scott, beside Shaw, had been silent the entire conversation. He looked uncomfortable in the way that someone who wants to be anywhere but where they are and yet are aware of how rude it would be to leave does. Now he straightened to attention, obviously curious as to what Shaw's answer would be.

"Two thousand, but she'll earn it back a hundred times over! The public loves elephants! Now, I was thinking that you'll ride her Charles, during the parade. Then we can work on a routine of some sort, get you used to working with her. It'll be magnificent."

Charles nodded agreeably, face still twisted into that forced smile, his foot never ceased tapping. Shaw pushed himself up from the table "I've got to run now, I've a meeting with the mayor in ten minutes. Eat up Charles." he said, tapping the virtually untouched plate in front of the man and then reaching out to stroke his cheek before leaving. When he was gone, Charles made a small unhappy noise in the back of his throat.

"What's the matter?" Erik inquired, struck with how quickly the smile had disappeared from the man's face leaving only a tired frustration behind.

"Shaw just spent two grand on one animal." Scott spoke for the first time since Shaw had interrupted them, "that's a months wages for twenty men."

"Plus he hired five new hands and a performer." Charles sighed warily, "that's basically all of the allotted money for the next few months, and I'll bet he didn't even buy another cart to house them."

"There's well enough room for six more men, I don't see the problem."

"Erik," Scott said as if he was speaking to a simpleton, "you can't put working men and performers together."

Erik stared at the man, perplexed, "But isn't that exactly what Alex and I are doing?"

"And is Alex happy about it?"

"Well no, but Logan said that that's because of his old roommate. And I also think he just doesn't like me."

"Those may be reasons as well, but frankly, Alex is a brat. And he really has worked hard to get where he is. A part of him resents the fact that he's been stuck with a laborer, and another part knows that he shouldn't feel that way. Armando was a worker before he started acting in Alex's shows. Even worse, he was a black worker. But when they were first partnered up Alex was as well so he didn't think anything of it then." Scott's eyes were sad as he talked about his younger brother.

"So what'll happen?" Erik asked, feeling suddenly inexplicably exhausted, and when he turned to Charles he saw the feeling mirrored in the other man's face.

"We'll just have to make room." he admitted, "It will mean three, four people to a room in some cases, and nobody will be happy about that. And the elephant will get Emma's old compartment."

Charles' fidgeting had gotten worse as he spoke, and now it was so vigorous that the plates and cutlery was beginning to clatter. Unthinkingly, Erik reached out and put a hand on his thigh, meaning to calm him. It stopped the other man's twitching dead in its track. Charles froze and blinked up at Erik mutely. His face, which had previously been pale with anxiety, suddenly bloomed pink. Erik was confused, why did the younger man suddenly look so mortified? Then he remembered Logan's words from days ago, "this is the circus, if you're going to make it here you have to get used to that kind of thing."

Needless to say, he snatched his hand away hurriedly, and felt his own cheeks heat up. The murmur of the room around them had picked up again since Shaw had departed but Erik found it drowned out by a ringing in his ears. His thoughts too, seemed much too loud, it felt like Charles should be able to hear them. His mind kept replaying every interaction between Charles and Shaw and then comparing them, horrifyingly, to those between him and Erik. There was nothing, absolutely nothing between the two of them that had hinted at anything but a growing familiarity, they weren't even friends, acquaintances at best, no matter how much Erik found himself with a growing respect for the way the other conducted himself , or that his performances left him breathless, that anger prickled his skin at the sight of the faded yellow bruise that still clung to Charles' fair skin, that his lips were many times redder than any woman's he'd ever seen and maybe it was a becoming look on the young man-

Erik slammed down a lid on that train of thought before he could examine it too closely.

Charles was standing, his dinner still mostly untouched, "I'm terribly sorry," he blurted, clambering over the bench awkwardly. His attempts to not make contact with Erik again meant that the man to his left got a knee to the side, "Sorry, so sorry. But I find it impossible to eat with those men outside going hungry. I'm going to turn in."

Scott wished him a good night which Charles politely returned, nodded to Erik who mutely nodded back, and hurried off. Not before, however, making a detour to the fence where three of the men still lingered, the thinnest and most desperate looking of the original group. It was too far away to hear what was said but after leaning in to address the men, Charles pushed his bread through, and managed to stretch and hand the bowl over as well.

He watched him skirt the outside of the tent and then push through the exit. The though came, unbidden, that anyone who saw the man as arrogant or conceited was a fool.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning Erik was dragged out of bed even earlier than usual, to go into town and collect the elephant.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was going. It seemed that his promise to occasionally help out with the animals was being taken full advantage of. Charles was back to his chipper self once again, but in a considerably more genuine way than the previous night. He fidgeted, a motion that Erik was beginning to think was a habit, but not as outwardly noticeably as at dinner. During the short ride into town he stared out the window as Shaw talked, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

They stepped onto the overgrown lawn of a small barn just outside the downtown area. It was more of a warehouse really, with buildings close on either side, a hardware store and a textiles factory. There was a tall black man standing by the door smoking, but he stomped out the cigarette when they approached.

"Mr Clendenon I take it!" Shaw said with an oily smile, "The man to show us the key to out future."

The man shook Shaw's proffered hand, but didn't seem impressed with what he saw. His eyes drifted over Erik and Charles where they strode behind Shaw and his lips flicked into a slight sneer. Erik bristled and Charles, seeming to notice, caught his gaze and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Erik bit back a smile and tried to calm down.

"Come on in then, I suppose, and take this damned beast off my hands." the man growled in a rough smokers' voice. He turned and unlocked the padlocked door with a rusty old key that he fished out of the pocket of his overalls. Erik drew in a sharp breath and likewise, he heard a gasp from beside him. In the shadows of the small barn was the largest animal Erik had ever seen.

"Come Charles, come here and say hello!" Shaw all but crowed. The man was humming with energy, and he eagerly sidled up to the massive creature. Charles trailed after more slowly, cautiously regarding the animal. Impatient, Shaw grabbed his arm and dragged him forward. "Say hello Charles, don't be shy! This here girl and you are going to be working together very often from now on. Come on, give her a pet, she's safe to pet isn't she?"

Mr Clendenon spat out of the corner of his mouth and scoffed, "Safe? Sure. This beast won't hurt a fly, unless she mistook ya for a plant and tried ta eatcha. Wouldn't put it past her either, this is one stupid animal."

"Stupid?" Charles asked hesitantly, "but she knows the basic tricks right?"

"Tricks? If eating a ton and shitting even more count as tricks than she's the trickiest damn elephant around. But as far as anything circus-y than you sods have your work cut out for ya! She don't know shit! That's why you got her so cheap, the old Kraut who owned her before was a loony, and he died and just left her here."

Charles looks at Shaw, eyes wide with dismay, but the man looked unconcern. "No matter boys," he said reassuringly and he turned to look over his shoulder with a toothy smile, "these untrained beasts are all the same, just show them who's in charge and they'll listen."

Shaw had to go uptown to finalize the paperwork concerning the new trapezest, so he left it to Erik to organize the transport of the elephant. Mr Clendenon handed him a metal rod with a wicked looking curve at the end, "A bull hook" he called it, "you'll need it."

Erik ended up paying a team of workers under the man's employ to help them walk the elephant through the streets to the circus grounds, they cleared a path through the town, citizens stopping to gawk at them as they passed. He walked behind with Charles, the two of them wincing together each time one of the men slammed the bull hook into the poor animal's side.

"I don't think I'll be able to hit her like that." Charles admitted dismally, "I'll never be able to make her listen."

Erik had no reply, so he just shook his head helplessly. Shaw was a fool. This purchase was bound to drag the entire circus down into the dust. The money that feeding and housing the animal would be a huge drain on their funds if she couldn't bring the crowds that were expected of her..

"She's magnificent though." He mused, "It was always the dream, the thing to aim for my whole life. You know you're a real show when there's an elephant, you know? No great circus is complete without."

Erik agreed. He'd never seen an animal this massive before without bars between them. He can't picture Charles perched on its back, the man looked so tiny beside it.

They settled the elephant into the carriage that used to belong to Emma the horse, Charles paid the men with a wad of bills he brought out from his pocket, and then they lingered for a while, watching the animal munch straw. They took turns holding out crab apples that they picked up from under a tree they passed on the way back. The elephant- Maggie- plucked each one patiently from their hands and transferred them to her undulating mouth. At first Charles was hesitant, understandably nervous, but as it became clear that the animal was as gentle as can be, he grew more confident, laughing happily when her whiskered trunk tickled his palm.

"I'm sure you can get her to walk in a straight line for the parade." Erik said to him, thinking of the big old Clydesdales that his father had used to plow the fields back home. It had been deaf and near blind, but still able to pull through any weather. "Any animal can walk forward, all you've got to do is stay on her back. Shaw can't make you do anything you don't want to."

Charles just laughed some more.

In the background somebody was playing the harmonica. After a while a woman's voice joins in, then multiple voices. One soars above the rest, loud and strong, that Erik recognized as Sean's. The camp rings with their harmony and Charles was smiling softly at him. Leaning back in the hay beside Charles, watching as he lifted a shy hand to rub Maggie's trunk, Erik felt content for the first time in weeks.

His good mood stuck after they left the elephant car to go their separate ways and even running into Alex Summers on the way to find Logan didn't dampen his spirits. As usual the boy treated him to a nasty sneer as he approached the place where he stood over Beast. The dog was squatting beside a bush taking a very loose shit.

"That doesn't look healthy." Erik remarked as he drew even to them.

"Thanks for the input Ivy League." Alex's tone was confrontational, but Erik's new found cheer seemed to have dampened his desire to fight back.

"Try honey." he suggested pleasantly, moving to continue his path to the half-raised bigtop.

"Honey?"

"Yup, my sheepdog back home was getting on in years and so were his bowels. Feed him a little honey it'll plug him right up."

And with that lovely note Erik strode on. Alex huffed disgruntledly but nevertheless departed in the opposite direction in search of the cook.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a ridiculous amount of booze in the company's possession. Not that Erik is complaining, but there was a little thing called the prohibition that would it the fact was ever discovered.

Logan was using Erik's two week "anniversary" as an excuse to haul out crates of cheap beer and get everyone hammered. Logan, it seemed, was the unofficial keeper of the alcohol, which Erik though was a very bad idea, as the man was seen more often than not with a bottle of something within reach. So on the day that marked the end of Erik's second week in the Brotherhood of traveling performers, Logan led him to the compartment that stored the alcohol.

"Llamas," Erik said, torn between disgust and amusement, "you keep the booze in with the llamas."

"Llamas spit Lensherr," Logan leered, "and believe it or not, most inspectors would rather not be spat upon. So eager are they not to, in fact, that they would risk not checking the llama car thoroughly. So yes, we keep the booze in with the llamas."

Erik's knees buckled momentarily under the weight of an entire crate that Logan deposited unceremoniously into his arms, "Outstanding." he grinned.

"Isn't it? Ingenious if I do say so myself. Before I got here they were just sneaking a few bottles on at every stop. Had to have had it all drunk by the next station. All very stressful, wasteful business. Shouldn't have to drink just to hide evidence."

"And then you thought of the llamas?"

"And then I thought of the llamas. I smuggle the booze too, across borders. Easier to get the brew up in Canada. I have a pal up north name o' Smitty there who keeps us well supplied."

"Should you really be telling me all this?"

"Shit Lensherr you gonna tell on me? Like hell you will you're drinking the stuff same as all of us kid, you'd be arrested right along side me."

Erik chuckled and followed the man out into the narrow hallway, elbows and wrists scraping along the walls from where they clutched the crate to his chest. The impromptu party was being held in the storage cars. When they arrived, people were already sprawled over the floor and propped up on the various boxes and sacks. All in all it looked very like when Erik had come to think of as a normal night on the road, except that there were quite a few more people in attendance.

"And here cometh the beer!" Sean crowed at the sight of Logan and Erik, and he reached out with greedy hands for Logan's burden, "Here let me help you with that..."

"Like hell Cassidy." Logan snarled, baring his teeth territorially, knocking the skinny boy aside with his muscled shoulder and heading into the room. Sean turned hopefully to Erik, who rolled his eyes but handed the box over. It was pretty heavy anyway.

Erik parked himself in a corner, sinking heavily into the dry straw stacked there. It had been a long day of packing up and loading, but now that they were set to depart early the next morning they could look forward to a good few days of down time. Most of the men were taking advantage of the fact by getting as hammered as they could since having a hangover the next morning was more excusable on road days.

Erik was handed another bottle before he was even finished the first, and that about set the pace for the rest of the evening.

"Well looky here Ang, who's this darling boy?" the voice was loud and shrill and disturbingly close in his ear. He looked up and squinted into the light above him, which was partially obscured by a voluptuous woman. He shook his head roughly, trying to dispel the double vision that was creating the multiple dark haired faces smirking down at him.

"Oh Izzy you would set your eyes on this one," said one of the faces, putting her arm around the first while the third giggled behind her gloved hand. So maybe Erik wasn't as drunk as he thought, and there was actually a bunch of girls crowded up against him. "This is the new boy that everyone's been talking about, Erik Lensherr."

"Yup, Ivy League!" The forth girl drawled in a deep southern accent. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a blonde streak pushed behind her ear. He thought he recognized her from the night in the dancer tent, she'd been the one talking to Sean. "Logan's new project, he's been telling me all about him."

"Erik!" the first girl said coyly, "You're a handsome one! How about we show you a good time!" she crouched and slid a hand up his arm. Beside her girl number two, Ang? A beautifully dark Latino, it had to be Angel, pursed her lips and scanned Erik's splayed body appreciatively.

"Yea okay," she agreed, "How about it baby, have you ever even lain with a woman? You look way too wound up. We can fix that."

"Okay y'all have fun with that, imma go find Logan 'kay?" the southern girl said, what was her name? Erik's mind sluggishly dragged it up from what Sean had told him about the "twisted love octagon or whatever". Anna Marie, that was it. Madly in love with Logan, blah blah blah.

His mind was pulled back into the present when a hand slipped into his trousers and cupped his dick. He gasped and tensed with a startled jerk and stared down at the slim brown arm disappearing past his waistband with a strange sense of detachment.

"Uhg," he grunted as the slender fingers moved around his limp cock, slowly causing it to stiffen. "I-it's really...um, here? Ah, really?"

He couldn't believe this was happening, he was about to lose his virginity in a train car full of stinky drunk men. The girl Isabelle was kissing him roughly, gripping his shirtfront and shoving her tongue into his mouth. It was rather wet and messy, and her teeth kept knocking against his uncomfortably. She tasted like onions and kissing her required his neck to twist at an awkward angle. To summerize, he wasn't really sure if he liked it.

What Angel was doing, however, required no such contemplation. She'd gotten his fly open and her mouth had replaced her hand. There was nothing not to like about that.

But pleasant going-ons in his trousers aside, Erik was dreadfully uncomfortable. The alcohol appeared to have lulled him into a drowsy state, and the room around him felt miles away. He registered the mouth on his cock, and the one sucking at his lips like a leech. Angel lifted off his erection briefly, staring, and he dimly heard the three of them cooing admiringly at it. I felt ridiculous, to have people cooing at his penis. He'd rather they just got on with it.

They also seemed to be reassessing their guess that he was a virgin, apparently he was lasting longer than most would. He supposed he should feel proud about that, but the air against his damp cock was cold and he was feeling increasingly self-conscious about the room full of people behind them. His erection was beginning to lag a little.

The girls took notice and the one he didn't know the name of grabbed his hand and tucked it under her shirt against her breast. Erik felt the hard nub of her nipple between his second and third finger and marveled blearily at the fact that he was touching his first naked breast.

Isabelle was licking his ear like some over-enthusiastic dog, the girl whose breast he held had started to cry out loudly and was writhing against his palm, although he wasn't really doing anything. She sounded sort of like the goats on the farm had at meal time. Angel was using her hand again, brows furrowed in concentration. Over her shoulder Sean was pushing a bottle into Charles' hands.

Charles, who was looking right at him, face gone crimson.

Erik stared back in horror, any arousal that was left had fled completely, leaving Angel with a handful of limp flesh. Some part of Erik knew that that was extremely rude and embarrassing, but he didn't seem to care at that moment.

Because it seemed suddenly imperative that Charles know that this wasn't how Erik normally spent his nights. It was vital that he be told that Erik hadn't instigated this, that his idea of a nice evening in consisted of a good book and his family, perhaps a game of chess, and not raunchy drunken sex with multiple strangers. Erik needed to tell him that he'd rather not be kissing this girl, or fondling that one, and that look, look how not aroused he was by all this tomfoolery! Check out his utterly not-hard penis!

But the moment Erik had met his eyes, Charles had turned tail and fled. Erik stumbled to his feet, managing to just remember to tuck himself back into his pants. The three girls at his feet yelped noisily and he stuttered a drunken incoherent apology about having just remembered something he had to do - yes at eleven o'clock at night- and rushed unsteadily out the door in pursuit.

"Charles!" he hissed sharply into the darkness, and then louder, "Charles!"

Before he could decide which way to go, because damnit he was prepared to search he whole circus if he had to, Charles reappeared out of the shadows with a finger to his red lips, "Be quiet Erik," he whispered, "Sebastian wouldn't like it if he found out I was out."

Relief flooded Erik and he was probably was still louder than Charles would have liked when he blurted, "Charles! I need...I need to tell you-"

"Erik hush, you're drunk."

"Exactly!" he crowed, pleased that Charles had understood so quickly, "I'm drunk! I-I'm very drunk in fact so you see, that wasn't me in there...with them..it was he... me...drunking-I mean drinking! But I'm not a drunk! I just...drank..and got drunk?"

"...okay." Charles said evenly, "Erik you should go back inside, or better yet to bed. Sleep it off. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No!" Erik cried out, panicking a little. If Charles left before he could explain, well, he wasn't sure what wouldn't happen but it wouldn't be good, "please Charles I, I didn't know you were there...if I'd known you were here...why were you there?"

"Ah, looking for you actually. Just...I had a question about one of the horses, but no matter it'll wait until tomorrow."

"Oh!" Erik gasped and leaned forward eagerly, "No ask me now! Do you need me ta come to the m-menagerie? Let's go!" because really, the idea of sitting in the horse cart alone with Charles, in the glow of a single lamp, the smell of fresh hay and warm horses, it was much preferable to returning to the crowded, loud, smelly gathering behind him.

"No Erik you're in no state. Go back to the party."

"I don't want to though." his hands had somehow ended up on Charles' shoulders, and he suddenly found that the height difference between them was rather fascinating. "...Can't we just...I want to stay out here. I want to tell you that I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what Erik?" Charles' voice turned tired halfway through the question, and by the time he reached the question mark at the end, he was slumped over himself beneath Erik's hands.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm drunk. I'm sorry you saw me...like that...back there. I don't want you to, to think ill of me."

"Erik really," Charles had turned red again at the reminder of the position that Erik had been in just minutes before. He was suddenly looking anywhere but at Erik, eyes darting briefly to his face before moving on hurriedly to scan the night behind him. Erik looked down at himself, finally noticing that his state of dress was a bit less than decent. His fly was all the way undone, pants riding low on his hips. The girls had also managed to get his shirt undone at some point, leaving a wide strip of bare skin open to the world. Mortified that he'd been standing there talking to Charles like that, Erik yanked the fabric shut. "It's absolutely none of my business."

No, no it really wasn't any of his business. So why did Erik so desperately wish that it was?

The question settled into the pit of Erik's stomach like one of Fred the strongman's weights. Why why why did he care so much? Why was he standing there like a fool, half dressed when he could be back inside getting his dick sucked by not one but two beautiful women?

The rest of the night - and early morning - passed as a haze of images. He didn't quite remember saying goodbye to Charles save for some mumbled oaths to see him tomorrow, but he eventually ended up back at the party. His new female friends were nowhere to be found and Erik wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or disappointed. There was Sean singing drunken songs with very rude lyrics, Logan and Scott were wrestling on the ground at one point, and bizarrely enough, Erik vividly recalled Alex throwing his arm around his shoulders and yelling to anyone around him that Erik was magical, and had saved his beloved dog from sure death by diarrhea, and that that made him his best friend.

And the next thing he knew Erik found himself waking up wrapped around a beast.

No, not just any beast, he corrected himself, the Beast. The diarrheaing doggy himself in all of his massive blue glory. Erik's first instinct was to jerk away, but all of his interactions with the animal thus far had included much hostility and bared teeth on its part, so he didn't want to make any sudden movements. The dog yawned, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that it was cutting off all blood flow to Erik's left arm, and got up, shaking his arms from its back. It the. Trotted off out the open door.

Erik groaned in relief and began to clench and unclench his fist, attempting to dispel the pins and needles. In time with the motion was the sensation of a hot poker being shoved into his eye socket. His mouth was dry, his eyes crusted over and he reeked of sweat and dog. Not once in his five years in university had he ever been this hungover.

Thinking about the events that had led to his current position- in an undignified sprawl across the floor of his room - was too painful, so Erik postponed that for the time being. Eyes tightly shut against the searing morning light, he reached around blindly for the piss-pot, hoping to relieve at least some of his discomfort.

"Well done Ivy League." Alex's voice made him drop the bucket to the floor with a clatter that momentarily turned his brain to mush. Erik looked to where the younger man stood in the doorway, the beast leaning quietly against his leg, "You've officially become the crew's favourite object of amusement. The whole train's abuzz."

All Erik could do was sink back to the floor and run his hands over his aching head, "Seriously, the whole train?"

"That's right, the girls haven't come out of their rooms yet, pretty thoroughly embarrassed I'd imagine. Apologies might be in order. The other two are just whores, but Angel is a friend so...she likes violets. Buy her some."

Erik nodded mutely, the events from the night before trickling back through the cracks of his fractured mind. Alex studied him for a few seconds longer, then his lips quirked into a crooked grin and he shook his head in apparent amusement, "See ya at breakfast then Lensherr."

So he'd been upgraded from "Ivy League" to "Lensherr" hm? Did this make them friends? Erik really didn't have the mental capacity available to ponder the matter for long so he settled with the theory that curing the dog's digestive issues had earned the other man's grudging respect. It was progress.

But the night before oh hell, the night before. Erik couldn't stop himself thinking about that no matter how badly he wanted to. The beer, the girls, Charles...

At least he wasn't a virgin anymore, he thought, desperate to find some sort of silver lining to the night. Or was he? He didn't exactly finish after all, what was the technical definition of a virgin anyways? He'd participated in sexual activities, but he hadn't really had sex...what the hell did it all add up to?

It added up to the fact the it had been his first real sexual encounter and he hadn't enjoyed it. What had gone wrong? Was it just the fact that the three girls...pleasuring him had been strangers? Surly it would be different with a woman he loved. He tried to picture Magda in Angel's place between his legs, and imagine her smooth, milky pale skin under his hand, her pretty bow-shaped mouth against his own. Self consciously, Erik slid his hand to his groin to tentatively feel his cock through the fabric of his pants. He wasn't getting hard.

Erik thought back to university and farther, to high school. Despite his lack of serious relationships, he'd had a healthy sexual appetite, and was no stranger to pleasuring himself. He frowned, struggling to remember if he'd ever done this before, pictured Magda and touched himself. He couldn't think of a time when he had. He'd thought about doing it, but then had restrained himself out of respect for the sweet girl, his friend.

But he knew that other boys masturbated to photographs of models, it wasn't like they were subtle about it. He'd been to his friends' dorms before and more often then not the walls were hung with raunchy posters, dirty magazines stacked beside text books. The boys unashamedly flipping through them in the others' company.

Erik had lived at home because the on campus facilities were much too expensive for them (even more so than he'd thought) and that way he was able to keep helping out around the farm. Because his mother was constantly fluttering around his room, cleaning and organizing, the thought of such lurid decorations had been out of the question. But that didn't mean that Erik wasn't allowed to fantasize, he just...hadn't.

And his reaction to seeing Charles in the room, big blue eyes shocked, pale hand clutched to his chest in surprise, his vivid red lips parted as he stared-

And Erik's dick twitched under his hand.

His eyes shit open and he stared at the ceiling in disbelief. He stayed completely still, the thunderous beat of his heart the only thing that accompanied the steady rock and rattle of the train. His hand remained frozen in his lap, and thankfully it didn't happen again.

But denying that it had happened, that he'd...his body had responded when he pictured Charles and yet had no reaction to the images of Angel or Magda, was impossible. Erik wasn't the type of person to hate based on sexuality, he never had been. There'd been talk in university of course, rumors and speculation, and the occasional beating or fight stemmed from a hurled insult or a wrong look. Erik had ignored it all, neutral on the subject. As a foreigner and a Jew, he knew what it was like to be discriminated against, and wasn't eager to be on the serving end of such abuse.

But just because he hadn't joined in on the widespread hatred of homosexuals that ran rampant through the country didn't mean that he was exactly excited about the prospect of finding another man arousing. He was aware that he'd grown to like Charles, respect him and enjoy his company, and that seeing him hurt and controlled by Shaw was liable to set a fiery anger ablaze in his chest, but his behaviour last night spoke of something else entirely...

He groaned loud and long and sat up, digging his knuckles into his eyes to clear away the sleep that had congealed among his eyelashes.

Charles had lovely lashes, not particularly long but thick along the upper lid, sort of ginger coloured against the wonderful sky-blue of his irises-

Fuck. Erik was attracted to Charles.

Unbidden, Logan's words rose again in his mind, "Don't look so scandalized Lensherr, this is the circus, if you're going to make it here you have to get used to that kind of thing. " homosexual relationships really were common in the company. The senior trapezest, a man named Jean-Paul kept close company with one of the black laborers who'd followed him down from Canada so they could stay together. The lizard-boy Victor was said to offer "favours" for extra cash, one that quite a few of the men indulged in (apparently the forked tongue was an exciting novelty). Just the other day Erik had witnessed a embrace between two acrobats, Benjamin and Julio, that had lasted a bit too long. Logan had told him a story of how they'd once been run out of a town because the magician's apprentice William had been caught in bed with some hoity toity senator's son. Apparently the poor kid had been brokenhearted. Hell, even amongst the dancers were rumors of relationships that went beyond just touching each other for the audience's entertainment. The woman who primarily took care of Raven for example, who went by the stage-name Destiny.

But even if Erik was willing to accept that he might have such...unusual preferences, there was nothing he could do about it. Charles belonged to Shaw, and it was obvious that the young man wasn't inclined to change that. Charles wouldn't cheat on Shaw just to help Erik test this mad theory.

The problem was, when Erik pictured being with Charles, it wasn't just his pants that grew painfully tight. Inside his chest his heat seemed to be doing rather the same thing.


	9. Chapter 9

Going on like nothing had changed, that was Erik's grand plan. Sure he may have just had a possibly life-changing realization, one that he was still unsure was totally accurate, and sure he was feeling a little shaken by said realization, but Erik was going to try his damnest not to let it show.

By that reasoning, and after a breakfast with Alex which consisted of a glass of water and half a burned piece of toast - which was really all that his abused stomach could handle at the moment, Erik headed to find Charles, as he had drunkenly promised he would in between acting like an idiot and making a complete fool of himself. And continuing with that strategy, when after attending to the horse that required his expertise, a black stallion with a cold, Charles invited him to join him for coffee in his private sitting room, Erik couldn't refuse. For the past two weeks they'd grown to be something close to friends and Erik, (in hindsight how blind he'd been) had looked for any excuse to spend time with him. If he suddenly started to give him the cold shoulder now it would be very suspicious.

It's hard at first sure, being alone in the small room with him Erik over-analyzed every one of his movements and over-thought every word out of both of their mouths, but after a while he began to calm down. The conversation flowed, Charles good-naturedly teased him about the night before, and passed on what rumors had spread about his drunken escapades. From there they simply talked, and occasionally lapsed into comfortable silence.

Charles' fingers were warm where they rested lightly against Erik's wrist. There was no pressure in the contact; Charles was still leery of touching him, despite Erik's attempts to put him at ease in his company. "Palm reading, really Charles?" Erik couldn't find it in himself to picture the down to earth young man catering to the delusional hordes of enthused believers that gathered without fail around their fortune telling booth during every show.

"Don't be condescending!" Charles said defensively, but Erik could hear the laughter bubbling at the surface of his voice, "It's really very interesting, if not entirely scientific. Just humor me at least."

Erik had already agreed to it. He'd been finding it harder and harder to say no to Charles as his stay with the group grew longer, and he couldn't deny to himself, no matter how much he wanted to, the warm glow of pleasure the proximity to the younger man kindled in his chest, especially now that he recognized it for what it was.

"Okay, look here, this one's your heart line. You've got a lovely heart line Erik, good and deep."

"I don't know if I should take that as a complement or not."

"Oh definitely! See at how it begins in the middle of your hand, and crosses this other one here? Seems you're a bit of a romantic hmm, falls in love quickly and passionately, but is also vulnerable to heartbreak."

"Is that what this stuff is all about then? Romance and such? That explains why all those simpletons like it so much." Erik said gruffly, wanting to steer the subject matter into safer waters.

"that's not all its about, although there's nothing wrong with wanting to hear about love. See this little gap indicates emotional trauma."

Erik flinched despite himself, and Charles turned his wide eyes upwards in sympathy. Erik hadn't told him the details of his parents' accident but he knew that he'd lost them recently. The fingers pressed tighter and the man attached to them began to gnaw at his lips anxiously searching for something to say, face full of apologies and dismay at having upset Erik. Uncomfortable with the fact that he'd made Charles unhappy, Erik tapped his knuckle against his, causing the other man to jump slightly, "Well, what else does it say?"

"Uh let's see, oh! All these little crosses represent decisions of considerable importance, and you've got quite a few my friend! There's a break in your life line that means a sudden drastic change in lifestyle which seems pretty accurate to me looking at how you came to be here. The really faint one right down the centre is your fate line, not everybody has one actually, it means that you make your own path in life. The overall shape of your hand says things too. You've nice long fingers, and a slim palm. Commonly found on the arms of moody introverts."

"Ha!"

"Again with the scepticism. Why, does this seem wrong to you? Have I made some completely outlandish suggestions or something?"

"For all I know you could be making this up, just pulling things out of your arse to take me for a ride."

"So are you admitting that it sounds true?" Charles' eyes lit up gleefully and at some point he'd leaned across the table so that his face was much closer to Erik's than it had been at the beginning. Erik took advantage of the situation to admire the light freckles that lay across the bridge of his nose.

Erik responded with a huff of annoyance but it was pathetically lacking in conviction. Charles appeared to chalk that as an affirmative and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

Silence drifted between them for a while, comfortable, while Erik let Charles feel satisfied with himself. It was good to see him looking so unashamedly happy and Erik was entirely content to just watch him discreetly from the corner of his eye. But after a couple minutes the cheerful expression slid away and was replaced by a distant sadness that Erik definitely didn't like.

"I actually wanted to be a fortune teller for a little while, if you can believe it." He absently traced the rim of his empty glass. "Our former seer, Fiona Knoblach, she liked to be called the Darkmother, dramatic I know, taught me. She was Jean's grandmother and we were always running around together since we were the only children in the group at the time. We kept stirring up trouble and to keep us occupied Fiona started teaching us the tricks of the trade. I though it was amazing, being able to tell all that about a person just my looking at their hand. I felt like...it was like being connected to them, to their souls and hearts and minds even though we were complete strangers, to share with them such intimacy was thrilling."

Charles' eyes went misty as he reminisced, clearly lost in the past and Erik could picture it too; Charles as a child, red-cheeked and plump-limbed darting between tents with a toddler version of Jean Grey stumbling in his wake. Even in the present the red haired woman obviously adored him, always softening when he swung by to talk to her in her tent.

"So what changed?" Erik prompted, sorry to drag Charles away from such obviously fond memories but honestly curious.

"Oh, well," Charles pinkened to the tips of his ears and tucked his hands into his lap self consciously, "Sebastian said that I should move to the big top, that I was wasted as a sideshow."

Of course it had been Shaw. He probably hadn't been able to stand seeing Charles thriving out of his care and decided to reroute him to an act that needed his direct guidance to have more control over him. Erik's fingers rolled into a fist against the cream-coloured tablecloth and Charles must have noticed because he rushed to reassure him.

"And he was right, of course, not that I think sideshows aren't marvelous too, but I love working with the animals and the customers enjoy the show so much. I'm happy to be able to do so much for the company really, it's flattering."

And loath he was to admit it Erik could see that it was the truth. Charles' interactions with the animals were a joy to behold and he seemed to have a supernatural bond with the horses that made their performances look completely natural, as if they hadn't been rehearsed a thousand times over. And Charles always looked radiantly happy flying on their backs and dancing around their feet. But the thought of Shaw ripping Charles away from something that he loved still filled Erik with the dark rage that he was beginning to associate with the man.

He stayed for about an hour with Charles, but Shaw would be finished rounds soon and there was an unspoken understanding between them that they mustn't let Shaw catch them alone together. The man was inclined to fits of paranoid jealousy, and men had been thrown from the train for infractions much less suspicious than tea with Charles.

Erik had thought that Shaw's fears were unfounded and far fetched, but he now understood, after the hour had flown by and left him desperate for another, that that was not the case.

It would have been easier by far if Erik was simply attracted to him, but it was clear to him now that he was very probably falling in love with Charles Xavier.


	10. Chapter 10

He tried not to hope. He tried to remind himself, every time he caught himself watching Charles that he couldn't have him. But there were moments, moments that happened more and more frequently as time passed, that made it impossible.

Such as the first time Charles sat on Maggie the elephant's back. It was three days after Erik's epiphany, and the train had arrived at their next destination. Shaw had prodded the huge animal out of her cart and onto the dew covered grass, where a rickety ladder was ready and waiting. Charles was nervous. He'd told Erik multiple times throughout the past few days, fretting anxiously about having to ride such a huge and exotic creature. Erik had done his best to reassure him, but truthfully he was just as hesitant. He looked so small beside the great grey bulk that Erik's arms itched to grab him and pull him out of the way. In the morning light, the animal cast a long blue shadow across Charles when he shakily stepped onto the first rung of the ladder.

Most of the other animal handlers had gathered to watch; Erik stood with Shaw beside the elephant's head as Charles reached level with its shoulders. Shaw had one hand gripping the leather straps that crossed the thing's face, and Erik clutched the cruel looking bull hook to his chest, but if the animal decided to protest being ridden there was very little either of them would be able to do.

Perched atop the ladder, Charles reached across the narrow gap to lay his hands lightly on the elephant's back. When the animal remained placid, he leaped gracefully aboard, folding his knees to the sides and immediately taking hold of the harness. The animal appeared completely unfazed by the human on its back, and turned her head toward Erik, dark inquiring eyes searching for a treat. He laughed in relief, and heard a weak chuckle from above in return. He looked up to meet Charles' easy smile with one of his own.

Beside him Shaw coughed, and too late they schooled their features. Charles redirected his smile toward the older man, but Erik liked to think that it was forced, less genuine.

Why shouldn't he hope?

Like when the show was in full swing and Erik managed to slip off on a break and pop by Charles' tent for a quick cup of tea before the horse show. While there he spotted a chipped chess set shoved under some books.

He and Charles played quickly, not able to take the luxury of thinking each move through carefully. The rushed pace was exhilarating and somewhat freeing as they slid their pieces across the dull tiles recklessly. They both played badly, too intent on finishing the game in time that they both lost pieces to unnecessary risks. Charles claimed his queen within five minutes and laughed gleefully when Erik mourned her loss with a string of curses in both English and German.

But even at that speed they weren't finished their game by the time Logan came in search of Erik with some task or another that needed doing, and Erik wavered at the door of the tent, loath to leave the warmth of Charles' company. The younger man obviously felt the same because he tugged Erik away from the entrance and pushed him behind a trunk, throwing a quilt over him to hide under until Logan had moved on.

Erik managed to win the game through pure luck- Charles simply made one more horrendous mistake than he did- and Charles conceded cheerfully. While Erik had been schooled in the game by his parents, Charles had taught himself to play. But nobody in the troupe would play him and Shaw didn't have much patience for it so he'd never had a partner to practice on. Erik felt warm pleasure blossom in his chest.

It felt dangerously like hope.

That after every show, when the performers were taking their bows, Charles' eyes found Erik at the back of the tent. That he was taking lunch more and more often at the workers table in the mess tent, sitting so close that they were pressed together from knee to shoulder. That he would laugh and smile and relax around Erik, the tightness around his features dissolving, then bags under his eyes growing less pronounced.

By all appearances Charles was enjoying their time together just as much as Erik was.

But what to do about it?

Shaw was no idiot, he had noticed. Although he couldn't be around to guard his precious boy all hours of the day, when he was present Shaw had become unbearable. Each day dawned with new marks on Charles' body, in increasingly visible places, like brands of ownership. Charles was often limping, the implications blinding Erik with fury. And Shaw made a point, whenever the three of them were together, to keep his hands on Charles. Every motion screamed "mine mine mine."

But Erik had allowed himself to hope, and now that he had, there was no going back.

He was convinced that he could win Charles over. The man liked him, considered him a friend, he'd even said so. What he hadn't said was that he was unhappy with Shaw, but his actions spoke volumes and Erik never failed to pick up on them. The flinches when Shaw pulled him close, the hesitation when he pressed their lips together, the distant, half formed beginnings of longing in his expression when he looked across the room from his seat beside Shaw, directed at Erik. He was sure that Charles wanted to be with him too.

So, Erik decided, he would allow himself to hope. He'd allow himself to hope that he'd eventually be able to convince Charles to be with him, to leave Shaw and maybe even leave the circus entirely. Because this had never been a long term thing, he'd always intended to leave. The reason he'd ultimately jumped on he train was because he'd been unable to envision his future after his parents had died and his education had fallen through. But now it was different. Every moment he spent with Charles his sight became clearer and he could see the future that he wanted.

They would have to be careful of course. Two men couldn't just live together in normal society, it was illegal. But if Erik got a job (maybe two) he could start saving up to pay for Charles to get into college. It was slowly becoming Erik's new dream, to find a way to get the boy the education he so obviously deserved. Because Charles was brilliant. He caught on quickly to all of Erik's simple farmers remedies, and even went beyond what Erik knew.

("That makes so much sense!" he'd examined after Erik told him the story of how he and Alex's shaky truce had formed, " a person who has diarrhea, or in this case the dog, has lost the capacity to digest sucrose and carbohydrates but is able to digest honey because it contains predigested sugars! It would do wonder to rehydrate the body. That's brilliant Erik!")

He also had multiple used textbooks stashed away in his rooms, hidden under the many novels. The order of them was...seemingly none-existent. The subjects ranged from biology, to eastern religions, maths to history of English prose. All of the books were worn and dirty, some without covers, missing pages, stained with unidentifiable substances. But Charles had read each of them front to back, and was always on the lookout for more. He'd go for long searching walks around the fields they set up in, and occasionally ventured to roam the streets hoping to find an abandoned book or two to add to his collection. Erik had gone with him a few times, and even managed to find him a poetry anthology wedged underneath a fence. The delighted smile he'd gotten when he presented it to the younger man had been the highlight of his week.

He was sure Charles would thrive in school, if only he could get him there.

They could tell people that they were distant cousins, Charles needing a place to stay while he pursued his studies. That story would hold for a few years and by that time Erik should have enough money saved up from his two (maybe three) jobs to purchase a house in the country, far enough outside of town that they could live in relative peace. Charles would be so happy, he was sure of it. Maybe they could eventually buy a horse for him, after a few years of Erik working his three steady jobs. Not a purebred Arabian like he was used to, but Erik felt confident that he could find a sturdy little workhorse for an affordable price.

Erik hoped and hoped and Charles gave him reasons to hope. They became close, although Charles was weary of Shaw catching on to their friendship, so he still tiptoed around and didn't outwardly show affection often. But he started to seek Erik out when he had free time, and they would talk over tea, or play chess, or sit with the elephant and attempt to teach her simple commands, bribing her with fresh fruit swiped from the kitchen. The elephant failed to grasp every concept the tried to teach, but it was a delightful pastime, sitting just the two of them in the hay, side-by-side, arms brushing occasionally.

It came to a point when they were spending more time in each others company than with anyone else. They used Erik's unofficial role of animal caretaker as an excuse to hang around the menagerie together, and although Charles had long since learned to do simple tasks such as clean the horses' hooves, he would feign incompetence and ask Erik to please help him.

On show nights, Charles would need refreshments brought to his tent, and Erik would manage to be the one to bring him them each time. On traveling days he would be mucking out a stable, or organizing the stock-cars and Charles would show up, looking for someone or something and end up staying for polite conversation.

The days passed and Erik hoped and thought that maybe Charles was hoping as well


	11. Chapter 11

Once again Erik donned his borrowed tuxedo and headed to Shaw's rooms. It was the second time in he three weeks he'd been with the company that he'd received a dinner invitation from their illustrious boss. He'd been told, by Alex and Sean both, that it was basically unheard of for a worker to even get one. But he complied, no reason to make Shaw distrust him any more than he already did.

This dinner however, unlike the last, was a destination event. Shaw renting a car to take them farther from the train than Erik and been since arriving; he sat in the back with Charles who was dressed dashingly in a dark blue dinner jacket and vest, hair immaculately combed. They didn't talk, though they sat so close their elbows brushed on turns. Charles chatted with Shaw and the driver, and Erik supplied comments when prompted.

The exterior of the building they pulled alongside was dirty and dank, located in the bad end of the town. the steps down into the basement room were dark and the walls moist, there was a stale scent in the air that prompted Charles to hold his sleeve to his nose. Once they stepped fully inside however, it was like they'd been transported into a different world, one where luxuries like the giant crystal chandelier glittering in the centre of the domed ceiling and the full-length velvet wall hangings edged with gold tassels were common sights. Dark marble pillars soared above their heads and the floor shone a deep mahogany. Modern music played from hidden speakers, and well dressed couples spun across the dance floor.

Most impressive however, was the fully stocked bar on the far left wall. It rose from the floor, built from the same dark wood, inlaid with beautifully carved flowering vines. The shelves sunk into the wall behind the counter were full of every type of alcohol imaginable, some that Erik had never lain eyes on before. The tall counter was crowded with patrons, and an army of waiters in crisp white and black vests traversed the chamber balancing trays weighted down with decadent drinks.

Despite himself Erik found his eyes widening in awe, mouth beginning to water at the sight of labels printed in foreign languages and exotic designs, before mentally reigning himself in. He couldn't afford to get drunk again, not tonight with Shaw pulling him toward a booth to sit in the plush velvet circle of cushions.

So Erik controlled himself and nursed the colourful drink that Shaw had brought to their table. It was sweet and delicious and what Erik really wanted to do was tip it back and chug, but Charles had thankfully informed him, or rather stated to the entire table that, despite the fact that the sweet juice masked the flavour of the alcohol, it was actually a very potent drink.

Shaw however didn't seem inclined to show such restraint, and after finishing off his drink he also finished Charles' before grabbing the younger man and tugging him onto the dance floor.

Erik rose half out of his seat to stop them, terror clenching in his chest. Shaw and Charles couldn't dance together in public! It was dangerous, they'd surly be arrested! But Charles seemed to realize what Erik was thinking and turned to look over his shoulders and pin him in place with a shake of his head. He raised on hand and pointed over at the bar. Oh, of course, no one here would report them because that would be admitting that they'd been frequenting an illegal establishment.

Well, now Erik was rethinking his vow to stay sober, because watching Shaw waltz around the room with Charles wrapped in his arms, for once a genuine smile on both of their faces was proving to be not much fun at all. He hated moments like these, when you could squint your eyes and in the resulting haze Shaw might actually look pleasent and charming. They happened every once and a while and Erik would see all of his hard work crumble a bit as Charles responded with blinding smiles and innocent affection.

Just like he was going now, flushed and breathless as they spun, his eyes lit up giddily and beautifully and Erik ached to be in Shaw's position, to be able to lean forward, just like that, and kiss the laughing curve of his cheek.

To dispel temptation, Erik poured the rest of his drink into a nearby potted plant. He then waved a waiter over and ordered the cheapest beer on tap, which was still a decent quality logger, with a much lower alcohol percentage. And then, just because he could, he requested the smoked salmon and caviar starter and charged it to Shaw's bill. He tried his hardest to enjoy the food and pointedly not look at the spectacle on the floor in front of him. The appetizer was delicious, if a tad too salty, but Erik had always had a weakness for capers and had soon polished it off. Not long after Charles tumbled into the bench beside him, slightly winded and still pink-cheeked and miraculously alone.

"Oh good you've eaten," he said when he'd regained his composure, eying Erik's empty plate, "Sorry to leave you alone my friend, but Sebastian does so love to dance, I couldn't bare to say no. He's gone to get dinner ordered, I think he wanted to talk to the chef about something or other."

"Did you have fun?" Erik asked, forcing interest into his voice.

"Oh yes, I love dancing too. Irene, you've met her I believe, she taught me when I was a child and there's never really opportunity when we're touring, so yes, it's nice to have the excuse. Do you dance Erik?"

Hazy memories of his bar mitzvah at the tiny village synagogue over a decade ago. He hadn't yet hit the growth spurt that had sent him shooting to claim the title of tallest in his year at six feet when he was only fifteen. Back then he'd still been shorter than his tiny mother, much to his young chagrin, and he'd had to stretch up to take the lead position in the traditional dances around the crowded room.

"I used to."

"What's that even mean? You don't anymore?"

"I haven't in a very long time. The dances at uni weren't really my scene." Erik quirked a self deprecating grin. And it's not like he'd had the funds to come to places like this to foxtrot the night away.

"Shame." Charles sighed, pushing his hair back from where it had fallen into his eyes. Then his expression turned sly and he stood up again and held out his hand, "Well then, how about it?"

Erik blinked at him and stuttered out a protest, "I don't- it's been years...Charles I can't, but what-" he didn't straight out say that Shaw would be livid, but it hung in the air between them heavily.

"Don't be a killjoy Erik... haven't danced for years, what nonsense. Up you go, and try to have fun."

A new song started as Erik allowed himself to be manhandled from the booth and onto the floor. Charles, thankfully, didn't try for the middle of the room where the dancing was the most enthusiastic, loudest and most crowded. Instead he stopped at the back fringe of the dancers and turned to salute Erik with a playful bow. There was a small scuffle between them as they figured out where hands were to be placed, with a concurrent debate over who would be leading, (Charles argued crossly that he'd initiated the dance, but Erik held firm that he was taller) it ended with one of Charles' sturdy little hands cupped in Erik's, the other fisted on his shoulder, while Erik got to enjoy the warm curve of his hip underneath his fingers.

In the end they didn't properly dance as much as shuffle in circles and good naturedly mock each others incompetence. Because, as it turned out, Charles didn't actually know the proper steps to the songs as much as he simply enjoyed moving to them. That worked well enough for Erik, making his own poor footwork look remarkably competent in comparison.

As they stumbled across the floorboards in their loose embrace, Charles shaking with silent laughter with his eyes shut and mouth open, ducking his face against Erik's shoulder in a hopeless attempt to compose himself, Erik allowed his hand to move around him and settle in the small of his back. He stared down at he man in his arms and marveled silently that this person, this man had made him laugh more in the passed week than he had since his childhood. This carefree, joyful feeling that he inspired in him was fast becoming a sensation that he couldn't imagine living without.

He needed to know, needed some reassurance that he inspired something of the same feeling in Charles. He pressed his hand against his slim back, pushing their bodies together and Charles' face reappeared, laughter draining away to something more serious, blue eyes boring into his own and his mouth fell open at the same time as Erik's to say,

"Erik-"

"Charles-"

"RAID!"

The scream cut them off and in a split second Erik caught sight of Shaw's stoney face just metres away, and then Erik's hands were jerked from Charles as the crowd surged as one, panic setting in as people scrambled for the exits.

Erik reached desperately through the mass of people, eyes seeking the slight figure lost in the rush, "Charles!" he yelled, terror gripping him. They had to get out, they couldn't be caught, couldn't be arrested. But if Charles was left behind, if they got him it would be better if Erik was by his side. As long as Erik could get to him they'd be fine-

And then hands on him and Charles had his arm and was yanking him along with the crowd. They pushed and shoved and were pushed in return but at last they broke free of the horde as the crowd spilled into the night air of the alley. Charles made to run with the majority of the people, into the pitch of the allies behind the building but Erik seized him tighter and sprinted in the opposite direction, back toward the lights of the main road.

They turned onto the sidewalk and immediately slowed to the same casual stroll as the pedestrians around them. Erik quickly ripped his bow-tie out of his collar and urged Charles to do the same, removing their dinner jackets and rolling up the sleeves of their dress shirts. Satisfied that they looked more or less like they'd been enjoying an innocent dinner at one of the many legal establishments along the street, Erik and Charles continued on, making their way slowly but surly back toward the circus.

They made it at last to the gate where Tom Cassidy waved them in with a suspicious look. They kept up their brisk pace all the way to Charles tent, where they finally stopped inside the entrance and allowed themselves to breathe.

Charles let out a shaky laugh when he was done gasping in air, and virtually collapsed against the wooden support in the centre of the tent. "Oh god!" he wheezed, hand going to the collar of his shirt and twisting the fabric, "Erik, I thought we were done for! That was it, life in prison!"

"We're fine Charles, we're okay, they'll never know you were there." Erik reassured him, panting and slightly alarmed at the edge of hysteria in the other man's voice.

"Oh I know but my friend it was close! And Sebastian...do you think Sebastian got out alright? He was getting the food...I didn't see him in the rush. Oh Erik, when the warning went up and I lost you in that crowd my heart fairly stopped I believe."

Erik went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping to steady him. Charles leaned into the touch as if starved for an anchor, still breathless with slightly panicked laughter, and grabbed hold of Erik's shoulders. All at once the high-pitched giggles had abated into gasping sobs that wrenched at something deep inside Erik's chest.

"Ssssh" he murmured, gently running a hand through the disarray of curls that hovered under his nose. "Don't Charles, you're safe."

"Y-yes I know," he choked, tilting his chin up, and their faces were so close that his nose skimmed Erik's chin along the way, and it seemed so natural just to tug him that extra inch and touch his lips to his, almost no pressure applied, just a brush of skin.

For a fraction of a second Erik thought that Charles would respond. He could feel the body in his grip relax and lean into him, stuttering heartbeats mingling, but then Charles flinched away with a moan.

"I- no this isn't right...I can't! I'm sorry...Erik..." he moved away, to the other side of the tent with the wooden beam in between them like a shield. His hands were on his face, hiding his features from Erik's sight.

"Charles-"

"Please Erik! You need to leave now."

"I'm sorry Charles-"

"Goodnight Erik."

He left, the early summer air nipping at him after the warmth of Charles' small portable stove. He was shaking, he realized, with more than cold.


End file.
